


Breaking Point

by imsosrsly, princessbelle212, Thecaitsmeow



Series: Insignificant Pride [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Blood, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of kagehina, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex, Violence, soap as lube, spoilers s2ep24
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsosrsly/pseuds/imsosrsly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessbelle212/pseuds/princessbelle212, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecaitsmeow/pseuds/Thecaitsmeow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kageyama feels a particular sort of strained tension around Oikawa, thanks to the emotional and sexual turmoil of their past. Oikawa feels a different sort of tension around Ushijima, who crushes him no matter how hard he works and no matter what he's done to be better than his genius kouhai. When Karasuno defeats Aoba Johsai in the semifinals, and the three of them happen upon each other, will the strain from their endless tension finally reach its breaking point?</p><p> </p><p>A canon divergent roleplay AU where Oikawa, Ushijima, and Kageyama end up in a bathroom together ;) Takes place after the Season 2 Seijoh match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS. THERE IS SOME SERIOUS NON-CON/DUB-CON IN THIS FIC SO IF THAT BOTHERS YOU, THIS IS NOT THE FIC FOR YOU.
> 
> This is also in roleplay style so it switches perspectives between the three of them.  
> thecaitsmeow wrote Oikawa  
> imsosrsly wrote Ushijima  
> princessbelle212 wrote Kageyama
> 
> At least we can all have a party in hell together >:)

Oikawa's ears were ringing long after the match ended. Everything around him was a roaring blur of disbelief. He almost didn't believe that they had lost until the final whistle had blown and the crowd had erupted into a frenzied mix of outrage and celebration; his teammates slowly collected themselves into a huddle, dropping their form. Iwaizumi took it pretty hard. He stood hunched over with his head tucked into his chest, tears escaping down both tanned cheeks despite the reassuring pat that Oikawa managed to place upon his shoulder in his own disbelief. One by one, Seijou lined up parallel to Karasuno and grasped hands with one another. _Good game._ Oikawa took Daichi Sawamura's hand, captain to captain, and gave it a firm shake. There was no victorious, smug grin upon his face. No assertive dominance. No belittling looks. Oikawa was grateful. He knew he could not have maintained his demeanor in such a sense if he had been joining hands with Tobio. The thought made Oikawa's stomach drop.

After all this time, that brat was still out to ruin things for him. From day one in middle school, Tobio had desired and strived for everything that Oikawa was-- and there was only room for one. And even though Oikawa did well to maintain his spot upon the throne, Tobio always seemed hot on his heels. Seijou turned from Karasuno to face their adoring, heartbroken fans in the stands and gave an appreciative bow of respect. Today, the act just felt disgraceful. Embarrassing. Tobio had finally caught up to him.

Oikawa turned to leave the gymnasium, seething hatred settling in wait just below his skin. And there he was. _Of fucking course._ It hadn't been long since Oikawa had last seen Tobio, but he somehow seemed different. Improved. There was an intelligent, mature gleam in those big blue eyes starting that had never been there before. Oikawa remembered first looking into those eyes when he was half-sized. Those round eyes had been empty and naive-- seeing only volleyball and the outward intent of those around him. Oikawa almost thought he liked him better as a mindless little thing. At least then when he stepped out of line, Oikawa could easily put him back into his place. But this older, taller, stronger, wiser Tobio was problematic. Sure, he was just as simple-minded as always, but there was this look in his eyes when he passed Oikawa... _Pity?_ Oikawa did not need Tobio's pity. He should be happy. Isn't this what he wanted? To finally beat his senpai? He'd officially taken everything from Oikawa now-- his chance to proceed in the championship-- what else was there now? Oikawa was back to square one. He had nothing.

"This makes it one win and one loss," the older setter spat as Tobio hurried past him now, "Don't let it go to your head, got it?" _You ruined everything for me._

The younger mumbled a hurried agreement as they passed, but Oikawa didn't pause to register his words. The grand king stormed out of the gymnasium, ears ringing furiously, trying to catch up with the rest of his team. He needed to be away from the disappointed gazes of the crowd and that dark-haired prodigy. The halls were thinning now, most of the teams having either retreated to their buses, locker rooms, or perspective courts. Oikawa waved off a slower teammate who inquired about their luggage, finding it difficult to hold his attention on something so trivial.

It felt good to finally be alone. To finally be away and to hopefully settle the pure, scalding, absolute loathing that he felt ready to burst within him. Oikawa replayed the final play over and over in his head-- where did they go wrong? How had they made such an easy error with Karasuno? Times had changed and the odds had, too. It appeared they had a new rival in Karasuno. Oikawa then let his mind wander to something more pleasant. He replayed the scene of Tobio approaching him after the match-- he looked like he wanted to talk to Oikawa, but what was there to say? It wasn't like him to gloat, but then again it wasn't every day that you finally took down your superior. Oikawa wanted to reach out as he scurried past, snatch a handful of that dark fringe that he knew was softer than it looked, and pull until the younger boy came crashing down onto the gymnasium tiles. He didn't care who saw, he didn't care if they shrieked in horror as a stream of hot blood ran down Tobio's chin as Oikawa ground his face into the floor beneath him.

In the bliss of his fantasy, Oikawa nearly ran into someone who stood firmly in the middle of the empty hallway. Initially, his reaction was to give some sort of flippant gesture or apology, until he realized who stood in his way. Oikawa's new reaction was to wrinkle his nose in utter disgust. Brown eyes trailed up the tall, broad form of Ushijima and quietly cursed every star in the sky for his luck this afternoon. This was not his day. Oikawa braced himself for the barrage of insults and superiority that he knew he going to practically drip from Ushijima's mouth. And somehow, he felt a little more mentally prepared for that than for the pity of Kageyama Tobio.

 

***

Ushijima was somewhat surprised by the outcome of the semifinals match. He’s been expecting – maybe even looking forward to – a final rematch against his long-term rivals at Aoba Johsai, not that ragtag bunch of ruffians from Karasuno. They wouldn’t stand a chance, unlike like how Oikawa’s team would have. Ushijima had noted the subtle changes in Aoba Johsai’s lineup and the new techniques they’d developed in such a short amount of time while he watched from the stands. He knew those differences would still not have been enough to defeat his own team, but he remained steadfastly impressed by Oikawa’s ingenuity.

He wanted to tell the setter as much, so as soon as the match was over Ushijima made his way towards the exit. He stopped in a hallway he was fairly certain Oikawa would have to come down in order to leave and hovered off to one side, watching volleyball players and coaches and spectators as they came and went. With his hands shoved into the pockets of his maroon and white jersey, Ushijima waited, though he was not left waiting very long. Soon and sure enough, Oikawa turned a corner and suddenly locked his fierce brown eyes with Ushijima’s gold ones. Fierce? Where had _that_ come from?

Ushijima never had to worry about dealing with losses because he so rarely had them, but if he did he imagined he might feel upset, like how so many other teams looked after Shiratorizawa defeated them. Oikawa didn’t look like any of them. He _did_ look upset, just not really because of the match for whatever reason. Ushijima held solid eye contact with that snarling stare, unblinking and impassive. He wanted to compliment Oikawa somehow, possibly reassure him that this was not the end. When Oikawa remained silent as he passed Ushijima, the Young Giant almost let him go. It wasn’t in his nature to pick fights or go out of his way to make amends. But Oikawa was the special exception to Ushijima’s rules.

Before the rival setter could leave, Ushijima finally spoke up. “A word of advice, Oikawa,” he started, deep voice soft yet full of conviction, “Stay the course.” That sounded right. Ushijima shrugged then, showing Oikawa how little this particular loss meant to him personally. “You took a wrong turn when there was a place you could have developed even more of your power, but you chose against it.” Ushijima felt his mouth tip down into a disappointed frown. “All because of insignificant pride…”

If Oikawa had only come to Shiratorizawa, everything would have been different. Better. Oikawa was more than good enough to have earned a spot on their team, so why was he still being so stubborn? Perhaps now Ushijima would finally have his answer. Oikawa certainly looked like he had something to say now that Ushijima firmly had his attention.

 

***

All Oikawa wanted this morning was to face Ushijima in the final rounds, except now that they were here alone and face-to-face, all he wanted was to be as far away from him as possible. Because now he would never get that chance. It was now just a reminder of what could have been-- Oikawa's time on the court was quickly drawing to an end. It was hard enough meeting Ushijima in the eye whenever he lost at his own hand, but to fall before Oikawa even got that opportunity was just disgraceful and out of character. It was uncomfortable and strange. He hoped that Ushijima would spare him the lecture, would just let him pass and lick his wounds, but of course a deep, unintentionally condescending voice halted Oikawa in his retreat.

Haughty brown gaze met and locked with Ushijima's own. _Stay the course._ He made it sound so easy. And it used to be. Oikawa Tooru had finally fallen from his throne. Or rather, he felt like he'd been knocked over-- hitting every bump along the way down. For as disgusted as he seemed, there was almost a sick enjoyment Oikawa got from Ushijima's lectures that he'd never admit. No one else dared to speak to him like that; no else really had the skill to back it up. It felt so offensively wrong. It stirred something inside of Oikawa to push harder, like there was something always just out of reach to obtain. Ushijima was always one level above him, and he seemed just enjoy looking down on Oikawa just as much as Oikawa liked gazing back up.

While Oikawa relished in the vague fantasy of being bossed around and put down by Ushijima, he also hungered for the day that Ushijima would then fall upon his knees before Oikawa. His kouhai was proof enough that people could certainly change. Oikawa blinked his full, dark lashes a few times as he sunk back into reality, Ushijima's words still trailing on. But he came back in at just the right time-- to cut off Ushijima, "I should have gone to Shiratorizawa instead of Seijou, and that would have made everything okay? Is that what you're saying?" 

Oikawa absently licked his dry lips as he waited a beat for Ushijima to protest. He felt himself squirm internally at the tension; Ushijima was always trying to get him on his side. He always wanted Oikawa to come and play for him. To be  _his_ setter. There was something mildly, but deliciously possessive about his persistence. But Ushijima would never have him. Oikawa knew he could never be comfortable being constantly enveloped by Ushijima's presence and demands. Their current roles would be played out until the end.  _You will never have me._ "It's not like any team is guaranteed to win, ya know?" It was true. If Ushijima didn't let that thought sink in, he'd be the next one to be dealt the bitter hand of defeat.

 

***

Ushijima blinked a couple times, mulling over Oikawa’s rebuttal. It sounded… illogical… like everything else _about_ Oikawa, honestly. The guy was a walking, talking enigma. “But here and now, at the very least,” the spiker stated, feeling a hardness creep into his voice that he hadn’t realized was there until he spoke. “The strongest team is whichever one I’m on, though.

Why couldn’t Oikawa admit that? It was a _fact_ . For him to continue to vehemently deny such an obvious reality, it sometimes made Ushijima wonder if the guy was half insane. No one defeated Shiratorizawa – not even a team with a captain as admirable as Oikawa, who fought for a victory harder than anyone else Ushijima knew. _Everyone_ lost to them because of Ushijima’s powerful left hand strikes, and that was that. No matter how hard the other team tried, the end result was the same as always. The hand Ushijima had just thought about twitched inside his pocket and an unfamiliar feeling suddenly crawled along his skin. What was it…irritation? It felt like a similar sensation to when he missed a serve during a match, so probably. Oikawa had rarely ever irritated him before though; this was new. Ushijima made sure his features remained smooth and inexpressive so Oikawa would not know how he felt, even as the spark of aggravation caused his stomach to feel like it was collapsing and inflating at the same time. Breathing evenly was hardly an issue, since nerves were also something Ushijima rarely dealt with. He watched as Oikawa’s expressions did the exact opposite of his own, changing rapidly like the morphing shapes of a kaleidoscope, vibrant and exaggerated. Such a fascinating person to watch... Ushijima wondered what Oikawa was like off the court sometimes – whether he was this over-the-top around his friends and classmates too. He wondered what it was like to be friends with Oikawa Tooru. He would never admit that that was something he actually wanted though, even silently to himself. If Oikawa didn't get it from the sheer number of honest suggestions about playing together that Ushiijima hurled at him, he probably wasn't going to.

 

***

For someone to be as stoic and blatant as Ushijima, he was also incredibly exhausting. Or maybe it was the fact that Oikawa was having to muster enough emotion for the two of them. Either way, Oikawa flailed his long arms and broad shoulders into a forced shrug in hopes that Ushijimia understood just how much he cared about their current squabble. Normally Oikawa would love to go toe-to-toe with Ushijima in a heated bickering match that always seemed to go just far enough until it escalated into... Something. But today was not that day. It was still too fresh. And what would happen if Oikawa kept pushing those giant, dysfunctional buttons of his with that flippant attitude towards what Ushijima assured to be gospel.

If Oikawa was a king, Ushijima Wakatoshi was a god. Would Ushijima raise his voice? Raise his hand? How far was too far for Ushijima? Oikawa knew he had his own personal breaking points. What would be Ushijima's? More than he cared to admit to anyone, even himself, Oikawa wanted to be Ushijima's breaking point. Or maybe he just wanted to be the break. A change in roles would be incredibly refreshing, and Oikawa suspected that deep down there was a part of Ushijima that wanted to wrap those powerful hands around any, every, part of Oikawa and wring out every last drop of arrogant pride-- until those snappy retorts through crinkled noses spiraled into pleading babbles of nonsense.

"Hah! Your confidence is just as laughable as always!" Oikawa winced lightly. His comeback was incredibly sophomoric, but he knew he had to say something to break the strange, squirming look he was giving Ushijima through his internal struggle. "Listen up, Ushijima... Not once have I considered my choice to be the wrong one. You'd best never forget this 'worthless pride' of mine."

Oikawa regained his haughty composure as Ushijima stared blankly upon him as always. Again with the one-sided investment. He just wanted to get inside that thick skull of his for once, and maybe let it get inside of him, too. That intense, almost smoldering stare, those floundering social skills, simpleminded pride... Ushijima wasn't entirely different from a certain blue-eyed kohai of his that remained ever-present in the back of his conflicted mind. Imagining the two of them alone together in a room was laughable, and yet pathetically endearing. It would most likely begin and end as a test of volleyball valor, determining who was the biggest brute of the court. Oikawa fought back a smirk at the thought, the act turning instead into another crease across his nose as he regarded Ushijima. Or maybe they'd eventually transcend words and erupt into a scrap for dominance-- Oikawa knew that Tobio had a nasty temper on him that wasn't completely innocent of physical altercations. There was only so much belittling that Tobio would allow of Ushijima before it was quite possible that a sloppy, desperate punch was thrown from the younger. And Tobio did have a pretty intense swing. But Ushijima's was probably stronger. Definitely stronger. Oikawa pondered then who would win-- Ushijima was bigger, but Tobio was faster. And if it came down to brute force? If Ushijima had finally had enough of Tobio's mouth and boyish punches? Would he have to grab him by the scruff of his neck with that killer left-handed grip until Tobio surrendered? Would Ushijima have to grind the young setter's lithe body into the floor until he begged? _Oh..._ Oikawa's eyes widened and blinked thickly a few times, painfully aware of the strained look on his face and his far-away gaze.

"If I'm the only one you're keeping an eye on, you'll find yourself gutted through unexpected means," Oikawa began, as if trying set the notion of his ridiculous fantasy into motion, "My kouhai isn't very bright. And is nowhere near my level yet, but... Even so, now that he's no longer alone, he's _strong_." Oikawa's brown eyes lidded as he regarded Ushijima then. It was absolutely a threat and a challenge, though indirect. If there wasn't already some level of tension between his idiot kouhai and this young giant, there would be after he was through with them. The utter loathing and fight for dominance he felt now for Tobio was a feeling he was more than happy to share.

 

***

Ushijima continued to regard Oikawa coolly, listening to his nemesis’ words just as closely as he would his own coach. He still disagreed – whatever pride Oikawa harbored because of his weaker, less-talented teammates would forever be insignificant – but if Oikawa wanted Ushijima to remember it, then he would. Because Oikawa always put up one hell of a fight, and Ushijima always relished the challenges that the snarky setter brought to the table. It wasn’t _Oikawa’s_ fault that his teammates were weak; they simply were. Ushijima could forgive that, so long as Oikawa learned from it and continued to grow stronger. The look in those hooded eyes was the farthest thing from ‘weak’ that Ushijima had encountered all day.

 _Gutted through unexpected means_ … “What is that supposed to mean?” Ushijima murmured out loud, though Oikawa was half a heartbeat quicker to further explain himself.

He acted like he hadn’t even heard Ushijima as he continued to ramble on about his history with Karasuno’s setter and some nonsense about birds. How typical. Ushijima sighed and gave Oikawa a once over, eyes darting from head to toe and then back up again. Oikawa actually looked _good_ , only slightly smaller and shorter than Ushijima himself. The perfect partner height. He still seemed so _confident_ too, even after having just lost his last official match before college. Was he really that good at faking it? Irritation prickled beneath Ushijima’s skin once more. Why was he getting so worked up over this? The thought caused him to realize how dry his mouth was when he tried to swallow and nothing went down. He hoped Oikawa didn’t notice that. Just to make sure, he steeled his gaze upon Oikawa’s face, boring into those brown eyes as though staring long enough might lead to learning some inkling of what went on behind them. There was a whole new world inside Oikawa’s head, and Ushijima wanted in on it, badly – he just didn’t know how to get there. Even now it seemed like Oikawa had other business to attend to. Ushijima let his expression finally fall into mild disappointment when Oikawa turned away from him as if to leave. Same as always. Would nothing between them _ever_ change?

 

***

Kageyama was floating high on their win. It felt miraculous, like it should have been impossible. He’d never really expected to beat Oikawa. The doubt always crept up right at the last moment, but he’d found Hinata and together they’d won. He couldn’t believe it. He tried to keep the grin off his face as he walked back through the halls, searching for the bag he’d left behind in his haste. He felt like he was floating, and he just wanted to find his bag and get back to the rest of his team as quickly as he could. Hinata would want to celebrate, of course, he always did. And for the first time in a long time, Kageyama truly wanted to join in. They deserved the win. The hours of sweat and tears and screaming and frustration had all been worth it, and they’d won. Oikawa had been wrong. Kageyama knew what it was like to be on a team again, and he wouldn’t forget it.

His quick pace stalled as he heard raised voices down one of the hallways. Curious, he peered around the corner, and saw Oikawa-senpai standing close to Ushijima from Shiratorizawa, clearly having some sort of argument. Kageyama stared, wide-eyed. Oikawa’s face was flushed and frustrated, an expression that Kageyama had rarely seen on him, and Ushijima was leaning close, like he and Oikawa were familiar and comfortable with each other. Kageyama’s stomach clenched, and he found his hands balling into fists. He caught the tail end of Oikawa’s words- he was talking about Kageyama. And… and Hinata. So he had noticed, then, the deep understanding between Kageyama and his spiker, and Kageyama felt a chill run through him. He didn’t like the idea of Oikawa spending any time at all thinking about Hinata, and he stepped fully into the hall, sneakers squeaking across the linoleum.

 

***

The taller man continue to bore down upon Oikawa with that same, smoldering, far-off look in his dark eyes. For someone who was so blatant, Ushijima was incredibly dense. Brows were set in a perplexed knot tightly at his eyes as if Oikawa's words of warning were complete lunacy. How did Ushijima really believe that he was so utterly invincible? How could he be so careless? Oikawa had thought the same thing just this afternoon, and yet here he stood, whole body stinging as if he had been slapped across the face by reality. And more than he hated losing, Oikawa hated losing to Tobio. Or maybe he just hated Tobio winning. And while neither option was ideal, Oikawa certainly believed that Ushijima deserved the victory. But it was uncertain. While Karasuno was an almost laughable, hodgepodge gang of losers, they were relentless. If Tobio and his team were allowed to face Shiratorizawa in the finals, the whole city could be in for a shock. And that was a pleasure that Oikawa would be more than happy to deny his adorable kouhai if he had any hand in the matter. Which he didn't. _But maybe..._ Oikawa shifted his gaze then back up to Ushijima, who still had that perplexed, vacant look in his eyes, but who also didn't seem in any hurry to escape Oikawa's presence for some unknown reason.

"Stupid Ushiwaka, do you want to guarantee your next win?" The setter mused, expression growing strange, "Because I will never forgive you if you throw away this opportunity that I will never have." Assuming Ushijima would interject with his usual antics about being invincible, Oikawa opened his mouth to interject-- but a quick squeak of leather upon the tiles behind Oikawa cause him to jerk his startled attention, brown curls bobbing with the action.

Oikawa's eyes were wide, not expecting to see a certain dark-haired setter snooping on his conversation at the cross way. And Tobio looked just as startled to meet his elder's stare. "Ushiwaka, how do you stop a nasty crow from flying away?" Oikawa mused under his breath, "You clip his wings..."

 

***

“Don’t call me that,” Ushijima said, addressing both the ridiculous nickname Oikawa had given him so many years ago as well as the rude descriptor. But he narrowed his already smoldering eyes in suspicious confusion at this latest development in Oikawa’s antics. “ _You_ were the one who literally just said no one is guaranteed a victory, even though I already told you _I am_ that guarantee. What could have caused you to change your mind so…” Ushijima’s eyes followed the turn of Oikawa’s head, looking past him towards the source of the squeaking sneakers, one Kageyama Tobio. Ushijima blinked, expressionless.

 

***

Kageyama stiffened, freezing up as Oikawa’s brown eyes met his. He could feel Ushijima’s eyes on him as well, but they didn’t affect him like Oikawa’s stare did. His eyes narrowed at Oikawa’s words. He would never be good enough in Oikawa’s eyes, even when he’d finally, finally won. But he wouldn’t let Oikawa do what he wanted anymore. Kageyama knew his own worth. He knew that his team was strong, and they were strong together. He stalked forward, hands still balled into fists, and stopped next to the hulking form of Ushijima. He glared at Oikawa, who had once been everything to him. Now all he saw was desperation. Loss. He sneered, then turned to Ushijima, cutting Oikawa off.

“I look forward to our match,” he said, his words formal and precise, “because he’s right, for once. No one is guaranteed a victory, and Hinata and I- all of us- are going to be the ones to defeat you. I’m certain you will be an honorable opponent. But we won’t lose.” He gave a stiff bow, then turned back to Oikawa, his face set in a hard mask of disgust. “Whatever you say, _senpai_ , we still flew higher than you could. You deserve that loss, for underestimating what Hinata could do. Don’t think you can do anything to stop us now.”

 

***

As Tobio approached them unabashed, Oikawa gave Ushijima a quick roll of his eyes over his shoulder. He knew what he'd said. But sometimes plans changed. And if anyone could work an absolute miracle in the face of inopportune defeat, it was probably Oikawa Tooru. The elder setter stood his ground, hands on hips, and waited for the groveling. _Please forgive my reckless attitude on the court today, senpai..._ And Oikawa could find it in his heart to forgive him. His precious, idiot kouhai. With enough begging and pleading, of course.

He was glad that Tobio had sought him out instead-- it saved Oikawa the frivolous hunt, and his precious time. He hoped that Tobio and his little sunflower middle blocker had enjoyed their short, sweet taste of victory. Oikawa regarded the smaller setter who now stood before him, looking almost confrontational; much different from the somewhat flighty interaction they'd had at the end of the match. And there was a fire in his eyes that still kindled from his victory high-- his dark, blue eyes held on so demanding to Oikawa's gaze that he swore for a moment he almost didn't recognize the boy. The elder setter shifted lightly on his feet.

But then Tobio had to go and open that goddamn mouth of his... It was always getting him into trouble back in the day. And now was no different. That mouth was just bigger, older, confident, bold, demanding... Infuriating. Oikawa looked at Tobio wide-eyed as he spewed his aggravation towards Oikawa as if he didn't even exist right in front of him. Or worse yet, as if Tobio was very aware of Oikawa's existence. And he just didn't care. Arguably, Oikawa's next move probably wasn't his best. He wasn't particularly proud of it, but he also wasn't particularly upset about it either. Exhaustion and jealousy were a deadly, desperate poison. And what else did Oikawa have to lose? As if some sort of unstable fuse inside of his brain had been viciously blown, Oikawa lost sense of control and demeanor in their isolation. His disgust and rage created a nasty sense of tunnel vision-- or maybe it was the anxious confines of the narrow hallway that caused Oikawa to lash out.

The elder setter reached forward and grabbed two handfuls of Tobio's jacket, hurling the off-guard boy into the neighboring wall with unforgiving force. "I deserved to lose? How would _you_ know what I deserve? You cost me EVERYTHING. As always." Oikawa curled his fists tighter and pressed his body in a dominating fashion into Tobio's to pin him against the wall. His words came as a deep growl in the younger's face, "You'd be nothing without me, you little shit."

 

***

“You’re wrong,” Kageyama said, calm in the face of Oikawa’s rage. He’d expected it, after all.

His senpai wasn’t used to losing, hadn’t tasted the bitter bile of defeat again and again and again and even still, vowed to get stronger. But he had. And Hinata had. And all of Karasuno had, and he wouldn’t be scared in the face of his one-time idol. He knew who he was, and he knew what he could be with his team behind him. He grabbed Oikawa’s wrists, still familiar in their strength, and prised them off his jacket. He glared up at his senpai, glad to see that the difference in their heights was negligible now. He could stand on his own terms.

“I’m stronger with them than you ever thought I could be. I don’t have to fight on my own. You were wrong. I’m sorry, but you were. Only the strongest teams deserve to stay on the court.” He shrugged, and turned to Ushijima. “I’m sorry you wasted your time on a sub-par opponent, but whatever you think of Hinata and me, we’re ready to fight at your level.” He bowed, ready to head off again.

 

***

Ushijima frowned at Oikawa’s rough behavior towards Karasuno’s setter, standing so close to him up against the wall that it almost seemed intimate. It was strange to have an immediate visual where Ushijima could directly compare the two strongest setters in the prefecture. Kageyama was certainly far more civil than Oikawa, with his bowing and his sportsmanlike neutrality in regards to Ushijima. He was also slightly shorter, though he was obviously still young enough to quickly catch up. Oikawa was…Oikawa. Silly. Flippant. Intelligent. Fierce. Attractive…

“It’s fine,” Ushijima blurted, trying to distract himself from his own wandering thoughts, “I accept your apology. Although…” He swayed his gaze away from Kageyama, focusing back on Oikawa. “It was far from a waste.”

Oikawa’s team might not have been able to defeat Ushijima’s in the end, but Ushijima appreciated Seijou’s resilience more than he let on. If Karasuno was anything like Seijou – and Ushijima assumed that they must be, since they actually defeated Seijou in the semifinals – then his own finals match might turn out to be more interesting than he’d initially thought.

“What’s with this animosity, Oikawa?” Ushijima thought he understood well enough that Oikawa was coping with an extremely heavy loss right now, but for him to turn to physical aggression and yelling, all because of a few choice words between rivals? It seemed more like there was something Ushijima was missing here.

 

***

The only thing that kept Oikawa grounded, if that's what it could be called at this point, was Ushijima's halfhearted compliment against Tobio's jab. Oikawa knew he was strong. He knew his team was strong. And anyone who thought otherwise would be playing a dangerous game. Tobio had unwittingly signed himself up for his own downfall--sealed his own fate-- the instant he voiced his self-proclaimed superiority. He'd forgotten who used to wear the crown. Oikawa would not be old news. A has-been. Washed up.

He'd originally intended to shake Tobio's confidence; give his faith a good questioning. But now that gentle nudge into self-doubt had turned into a quest for utter destruction of everything Tobio ever was and ever could be. And his team. For as much as Kageyama liked to dub himself the martyr and speak of Karasuno, collectively, Tobio was the heart and soul of their team. Or rather... Tobio was the soul, and his little orange partner was the heart. And like any sturdy structure, take down one key support, and you get to watch the whole thing tumble. Oikawa wrinkled his nose and lurched forward to snatch Tobio's chin in his powerful grip, grinding the back of his skull along the wall and rolling until he forced Tobio to lock eyes with the young giant. His hold was relentless.

"Get a good look, Ushiwaka," Oikawa spat, "This is your future. This is your obstacle. Can you handle losing? Do you think it won't eat away at you from the inside? If you think you're better than fighting dirty, then you're sorely mistaken. So, if you don't take charge _now_  and nip this crow's wings, you're going to be in for a world of disappointment."

Assuming Tobio would grow anxious and squirmy from Oikawa's actions and vague threats, the elder setter pulled Tobio from the wall by the grip on his jaw before throwing his shoulder into him and shoving him. Tobio's head cracked against the solid wall behind him. It was a bit overdone, but it would most likely achieve Oikawa's goal in stunning the boy long enough for him to collect the younger setter in his arms like an unaffectionate, rough hug. Oikawa tugged the dead weight along with him to a door just a few paces away, frantically checking each crossway for curious eyes.

"If you want to see how I've treated this little problem for the past four years, I suggest you stop standing there like a fucking gargoyle and come with me," Oikawa eyed Ushijima up and down as he continued to loom over the situation a bit uncomfortable, but oddly intrigued with their age-old declaration of war upon one another. Ushijima always seemed unwaveringly invested in Oikawa. For better or for worse. There were plenty of days that Oikawa wished the guy would just get a new specimen to hover over. But somehow, Oikawa always seemed to be his favorite. No matter. Oikawa could use this in his favor. The setter nudged the door open enough for him and Tobio to slip inside; a tiny, plated label reading 'Men' hung above their heads. "You can thank me later. And trust me-- you will."

 

***

Kageyama's head was ringing, stars spinning around his vision. He was vaguely aware of Oikawa dragging him, saying something- he didn’t know what. He couldn't see straight, he couldn't _think._ His head swam and throbbed in agony, and he had to shake himself to try and get his vision to stop blurring. Oikawa’s fingers bit into his jaw, a harsh but familiar heat, and he shuddered and wrenched himself away, stumbling back, trying to get out of Oikawa’s grasp.

“Don’t touch me,” he spat, his hand coming up to brush furiously at his cheek, trying to erase the memory of sensation. “You don’t get to- not any more. Not again.” Oikawa’s forcefulness had knocked something loose in him, something he thought he’d fixed, he’d forgotten and buried and left to rot, but it roared up again with the slightest cajoling: fear, anticipation, and a sick, uncomfortable wanting. He shuddered, pushing his palms against Oikawa’s shoulders and shoving him away, hard. He sucked in air and straightened up, trying to conceal the tremors wracking down his spine. “Don’t you dare fucking start that again, Oikawa,” he snarled, blue eyes flashing like flints of ice. “It’s over. You lost.”

 

***

Oikawa didn’t even need to throw an insult in there to bait Ushijima’s interest in what was going on. He’d be a fool not to pay attention to something that could potentially affect a future match. He listened silently, still eyeing Oikawa for the most part. Clearly the shared history between these two setters went a lot deeper than just volleyball. _Don’t touch me. You don’t get to. Not anymore_. And clearly that shared history sometimes changed a match’s outcome.

 _Fight dirty. Take charge now. You can thank me later—you will_ . This…this _was_ still about volleyball. It had to be? _This is your future, your obstacle_ . Ushijima felt a flash of heat crawl down his spine, a sensation he didn’t find to be all that pleasant not knowing where it came from. _Can you handle losing? Do you think it won’t eat away at you_ ? Ushijima could handle losing; Shiratorizawa had lost at nationals quite a few times. But to lose here, where the promise of stronger opponents and reaching the greatest heights would be cut unbelievably short, before it ever even started… _It’s over. You lost_.

No. Ushijima squared his jaw as his teeth clenched tightly together. Anger and something that also felt weirdly like excitement bubbled up from his chest, made his blood flow hotter than it should. He let his head tilt slightly to one side as he strode steadily forward, crowding Kageyama’s space and wordlessly herding him back towards the restroom door. Ushijima thought he could hear his blood rushing through his own skull, could feel his heart pounding quicker and quicker in his throat.

“No,” he said aloud this time, lowly, completely blocking Kageyama’s exit and daring him to try leave with the sheer force of his presence alone. “I would like…to see what Oikawa-san is talking about.”

 

***

Oikawa lost himself in the moment, almost unaware that Ushijima had indeed followed behind them as request. In this room it was just him, Tobio, and years' worth of unspoken, suppressed torment and manipulation between the two setters.

Not entirely unprompted, a comfortable shiver ran down Oikawa's spine as Tobio fought with himself momentarily. His babbling just sounded like aggravated nonsense, until Oikawa picked out enough key words to understand exactly what was happening here. That was a lot quicker than he had hoped or intended. He had to admit to himself that he thoroughly missed this dynamic. Oikawa pressed forward then and urged Tobio backwards until he made contact with the bathroom's wall that neighbored the short row of sinks. The older setter pressed his palms flat against the wall to cage Tobio with his broader body, swooping his head down to meet the younger's level in a challenge for dominance.

"I can do whatever I want, Tobio." Oikawa retorted dangerously and pulled one hand free, raising to that typical, dark fringe at Tobio's head, running his fingers through the short length-- the intimate act held little in the form of intimacy, but it was more so possessive and demeaning. "Don't touch you? Like this?" Oikawa breathed his tease in a quiet tone as if it were a secret worth keeping, "Tobio's all grown up now... I remember when you were younger and you'd _beg me_ to touch you."

Fingers curled then at the crown of his dark hair and yanked, tipping Tobio's chin upwards to better match their gazes. Like fire and ice. " _Please, please, please, Senpai_ ...I know you remember. Let me hear it. Don't be shy just because we have company. Show Ushiwaka what a good boy you can be, Tobio." Oikawa's lidded, brown gaze trailed over to Ushijima. Both ends of his lips curled into a tight smirk as he noted the taller man's usual stony-face give way to intrigue. He was so simple. Of course if Oikawa dangled a threat in front of his eyes, tied up with a bow, Ushijima would come trotting at his heels. There was a foreign, hot, flush to his skin that Oikawa had never caught before-- like there was some personal gain in this discover. _Interesting_.

 

***

Kageyama felt a flash of panic, a caged animal with nowhere to run, not with the big bulk of Ushijima blocking the door, and then Oikawa had him caged in like always, arms braced on either side of his head before he could move, before he could _think_ , and Kageyama felt his stomach twist into a knot. He felt an unwanted flush start to creep up his cheeks as memories rose in his mind, unbidden and unwanted. Begging. Needing. Desperate and helpless, and he’d _never be that again_. He snarled and grabbed Oikawa’s wrist, detangling it from his hair, feeling the strain of his muscles as they matched Oikawa’s strength. He could fight now, though. He’d gotten strong.

“Stop it, Oikawa,” he said, his voice low with warning. “We’re past that, now.”

He was grown up. Oikawa had said it himself. Grown up enough to see past the lies and the uncertainties that Oikawa had planted in him, weeds of insidious self-doubt that had grown and grown until finally, the scorching heat of Hinata’s sun had burned them away. He wasn’t that poor boy, friendless and unsure, and he didn’t need to be reminded. Still, he was embarrassed to his core that Ushijima had heard Oikawa’s insinuations. He didn’t need to appear weak in front of his enemies, didn’t need to give them more weapons to use against him. He kept his gaze on Oikawa’s smirking face and felt a twist of hate and rage and self-disgust.

“I don’t want you. I never should have in the first place, and I definitely don’t need you now. So give it up.”

 

***

A different kind of heat wormed its way up from Ushijima’s stomach, all the way into his cheeks as Oikawa’s sweetly dark taunting flooded the otherwise silent bathroom with sound. A feeling he’d never encountered before suddenly made even his vision go hot as he watched Oikawa run his beautiful fingers through Kageyama’s hair: jealousy. White, hot, burning jealousy. It pinched Ushijima’s chest tight, seeing the attention he'd always craved from Oikawa given so freely to some irrelevant brat who just happened to have volleyball in his genes. He hated it, but now that the jealousy was there he couldn’t immediately think of a way to stall or stop it. He did managed to take a few deep breaths in the hope that doing so would calm his body down, though. Maybe his cheeks weren’t half as flushed as they felt…

What the hell was _wrong_ with him? What the hell was wrong with _Oikawa_? And why would hearing those things and seeing the way Oikawa easily flirted with his number one enemy make him feel this way? Ushijima did not know, though he had every intention of finding out. Once he was fairly sure Kageyama wasn’t about to bolt, Ushijima came closer to quietly observe their exchange, hovering just slightly behind Oikawa like a statue or a bodyguard. Imposing and impassive. Intrigued beyond what he thought he was capable of feeling.

 

***

Oikawa exhaled an airy scoff as if Tobio had told him a useless joke. Though in a sense, to Oikawa, it probably was. He slapped Tobio's hand soundly as he tried to pry his grasp free of dark fringe, his responses particularly relentless as his younger fought back with his newfound strength.

"You don't _want_ me? You'd have _nothing_ without me, brat. Who's going to want you, huh? I already broke you. No one likes icky, damaged goods, Tobio, Don't be stupid..."

Oikawa's free hand then circled low and captured a good handful of Tobio's thigh and rear. Long fingers dug deep into the firm muscle, trimmed nails pinching through his clothing by the implied, possessive force.

"And you will never be 'past' me. You will never be done with me. I could ruin you, Tobio, do you not get that? How would your team react if they found out about you? If they found out their prized setter has had his shorts around his ankles before by another man? They'd bench you so fast and put in that Refreshing Guy."

Oikawa kept being pleasantly reminded of Ushijima's presence in between his antics, hearing the man shuffle or waver his breathing in the close quarters behind him. The older setter turned slightly to regard him, giving him a similar, taunting look as he had his prodigy. It was playful, but darkly commanding. Which scarily wasn't too far from his norm. This was just a bit more centralized. "Right, Ushiwaka? Karasuno isn't so scary knowing that this pathetic guy here is their number one weapon."

Oikawa gave a soft, unforgiving roll of his hips into Tobio to drive him back into the wall. It was painfully exciting how hyper-aware of Ushijima's towering presence Oikawa was. He had the instinctual urge to draw him in close enough to rest against his broadened chest while he endlessly tortured Tobio into a bliss. But it was attractive watching simple Ushijima involve himself without Oikawa's temptations or manipulation. Having his approaching warmth upon his back was enough for now. A different heat bubbled on the other side of him, down to his gut-- the dynamic was straight out of a twisted fantasy of his. Sometimes Oikawa wasn't entirely sure he wasn't dreaming. But Ushijima's warm, unsteady breaths at his shoulder, and Tobio's wide, unmoving, distressed gaze kept him pleasantly grounded.

 

***

“Get _off_ me, Oikawa,” Kageyama demanded, panic flowing through him in full force. He didn’t want it, didn’t want Oikawa, and yet he felt his body starting to respond like Pavlov’s dog, trained and pathetic the minute Oikawa dug in his claws. He knew exactly how to make Kageyama squirm, and his words were insidious, curling around his thoughts and twisting them, corrupting. “They wouldn’t care, it doesn’t matter!” he cried, knowing it was a lie.

They’d be disgusted. He could see Tanaka’s disgusted face, Suga horrified, Daichi’s disappointment, Hinata’s- no. He shoved Oikawa back into Ushijima’s chest.

“I don’t want you,” he repeated, his voice cracking under the stress. “I don’t care about anything except volleyball and getting back to my team. They like me anyway. And Suga-senpai is still a great setter!”

He felt the need to defend and attack back, determined not to let Oikawa get under his skin despite the horrible arousal that had risen up against his will. It was normal, he told himself. Oikawa knew just where to touch, just where to press, just how to send him to his knees a begging, sweating mess, and- He flushed, growling and frustrated at himself. He didn’t want Oikawa. He hadn’t wanted him in months, not since Hinata’s face had been the one popping up in his dreams, joyful and adoring and everything that Oikawa wasn’t, even though he felt wracking guilt every time his mind provided images of Hinata under him, blissed out and drenched in sweat and cum. He had to move past whatever Oikawa had done to him. It didn’t matter if he was cracked and damaged. Hinata liked him anyway.

 

***

Ushijima automatically threw his hands up out of instinct to catch Oikawa, both of them landing sturdily onto Oikawa’s shoulders, one foot scooted one step backward so he could brace against the force pushed into them. The warmth of Oikawa’s back against his chest sent an unexpected thrill through Ushijima’s body. He felt his flush return with a vengeance, so much faster than he could mentally keep under control. _You don’t want this_ , he told himself. _None of this is enjoyable. It should make you feel uncomfortable, not lightheaded… You. Don’t. Want. This_.

But it wasn’t working. Everything was working against his previously infallible logic. An idea occurred to Ushijima then, one he was positive that he never would have thought of under normal circumstances. Using the full strength available to him, he slid his broad hands down Oikawa’s shoulders to where he could grip his upper arms instead and started to walk him forward, towards Kageyama once more. Ushijima had pretty much tuned out the younger setter’s defensive snipes at this point, but he listened in again when he was pressing Oikawa insistently into Kageyama. He could feel his heart back in his throat, nerves jack-hammering harder than they ever had during a match, or probably ever would.

“Is this alright?” he breathed softly over Oikawa’s shoulder. Ushijima suddenly trained his golden gaze on Kageyama, noting the indecisive, somewhat frightened looks playing out over his stern features. Those looks made Ushijima’s stomach _somersault_. So apparently he liked feeling dominance too… He subconsciously leaned a bit more of his weight against Oikawa, almost pressing their hips together. Only a shred of embarrassment left lingering on his cheeks kept him from doing so. And contrary to that embarrassment, he shamelessly kept his eyes focused on Kageyama’s helplessness.

 

***

Oikawa tripped backwards at Tobio's sudden shove, often forgetting that the little, helpless boy he'd used to know had grown up. And he was _strong_. Good. Oikawa never liked anything easy-- anything handed to him. He was, however, grateful for the stalwart, silent existence behind him that caught his fall in two powerful grips. Oikawa found himself flush against Ushijima's chest and the heat that radiated off of him was near stifling. For as dense of a hardass that Ushijima played himself off to be, he was still human-- he was still a guy. He still had needs. And sometimes, Oikawa understood, those needs acted on their own. You'd be an idiot to not have noticed any level of animalistic tension between them on and off the court. He felt the taller man practically press himself against Oikawa's fit waist, impossible grip still possessive at his forearms to hold him in place. It was nice. But it wasn't necessary. Oikawa was right where he wanted to be; and so was everyone else.

He wanted to tease Ushijima, to flare that scarlet upon his cheeks, to question him on how many times he had allowed himself to fantasize about this in the locker room after everyone had gone home... But instead, Oikawa responded with a meaningful rut of his rounded ass against Ushijima's crotch that he had burrowed against his backside. Oikawa arched his back lightly to meet Ushijima's height. He understood what Ushijima was feeling, was wanting, and he would get to that in time-- but a little bit slower in regards to Ushijima's inexperience. How many times had Oikawa himself fantasized about this? Separately. But here it was all together in one, big, erotic package. The dynamic between them was so ranged, and it scratched every itch Oikawa was feeling. Ushijima seemed ready to assert his own aroused dominance upon Oikawa, while he sought to wreak the same havoc upon his unwitting kouhai.

"Don't act like you're not enjoying yourself, Tobio-- you know I always get what I want," Oikawa crowded him again, this time having Ushijima's added pressure to keep them in place.

Oikawa curled his fingers along the hem of Tobio's shirt and freed it from his shorts to allow an opening. He took his own invitation, slipping a hand underneath Tobio's dark uniform and letting his nails sink in to the sensitive flesh at his pelvis. His free hand cupped low to palm at Tobio's clothed crotch, smirking a disgusting smile as he felt the younger's instinctual response. Old habits died hard. Oikawa stroked little patterns along his bulge with his thumb, still trying to make the boy squirm into submission before he went in for the kill.

"Why are you so eager to get away when you feel like this? You know I can make you feel good. I can make you feel _so_ good, Tobio... I'll make you cry you feel so good. That's something your dumb friends can't do. You can't sate this disgusting side of you when you're with them," Oikawa froze for a moment. His own words triggered some sort of realization in the back of his mind that he hadn't considered until this instant, "Wait," Oikawa scoffed, locking eyes with Tobio degradingly, searching out the answers in his anxious blue eyes, "There's one of them that you like, isn't there? That has to be it..."

Oikawa recounted their past conversations before holding up in this washroom-- when Tobio had more bite to his now-quivering bark. _Hinata, Hinata, Hinata and I are strong, we'll defeat you, we're partners, he understands me, Hinata, Hinata..._ Oikawa nearly howled with high-pitched laughter at his realization. "No... No, you can't be serious. You _like_ that little sunflower, don't you, Tobio? How morbidly hilarious, you _must_ be joking. Why would he ever want you?"

 

***

Kageyama’s eyes had fallen half-closed, his expression twisted up in a grimace of misery and arousal, and it took nearly all of his concentration to prevent himself from bucking up into Oikawa’s practiced grip and let him do what he wanted; years of conditioning battling with his desire to flee. It didn’t matter how much he told himself he didn’t want Oikawa, chanting a mental mantra of denial in an attempt to convince himself. His body still responded just as it always did, Oikawa’s fingers sending searing heat through him, pressing just on the good side of painful, scratching open that deep, filthy wanting that he could never quite forget, never suppress. It was overwhelming. His head was spinning, his nose filled with the familiar smell of Oikawa’s hair. Ushijima’s threatening presence sent a different sort of thrill through him, his subconscious mind on the edge of panic at the extra danger. When Oikawa laughed, though, that horrible high-pitched mocking, Kageyama’s eyes flew open, then narrowed in rage.

“Don’t fucking talk about him,” he spat. “He’s too good for-” He stopped, eyes blazing as he met Oikawa’s. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.” He tried to take a step to the side, but Oikawa reached up and blocked his escape. Fear twisted in him again, and he tried to shove his way through. The combined weight of Ushijima and Oikawa against him was too much, though, and even when he tried to dart under Oikawa’s arm, he just found himself slammed back up against the wall. His breath caught in his throat, then sped up, frantically matching his accelerated heartbeat.

“Oikawa,” he said, his voice quiet and controlled. “Let me go. Please.” He winced. Even pleading that small amount ripped the emotional scars even deeper open, but it was the only thing he could think of that would possibly allow him escape. Oikawa liked it when he begged.

 

***

Not even the unspoken threat of someone walking in on them could water down the electric fire burning through Ushijima from the sinfully sweet roll of Oikawa’s hips against his body. He inhaled sharply, breath suddenly frozen in his lungs, air growing stale between his lips while Oikawa went back to taunting Kageyama. Chills broke out all along Ushijima’s arms, even underneath his jacket, a clammy feeling mixing with his anxiety and excitement and blooming arousal. He had to take a moment to remind himself to breathe again, to realize that that did actually just happen. Was Oikawa into him as well…?

Ushijima didn’t think it was possible. Too many times Oikawa had spat in his face, called him names, stomped off just from standing in close proximity to Ushijima. The Young Giant hardly thought it was possible that he himself was so enamored with Oikawa, much less the other way around; usually those fleeting thoughts of running his hands all over the expanse of Oikawa’s back, his thighs, through his flippy brown hair, down his chest – usually Ushijima was able to cut those off and forgot about them. But this time he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, for a split second admitting to himself that he was _so_ very attracted to Oikawa, that this was all something he’d wanted for quite some time now. His fingers quivered as he finally gave in to temptation and pushed his pelvis into Oikawa’s backside, ran his hands down from Oikawa’s arms to his sides instead. He felt so warm Ushijima almost wanted to pull away. But he also wanted to get scalded, wanted to shove his fingers beneath Oikawa’s track jacket and his jersey, craved the touch of that expanse of skin he’d only ever felt in his repressed dreams.

A low, pleased sound hummed out of Ushijima’s throat, vibrating against Oikawa’s shoulder as he gently leaned his chin there, his cheek brushing against the white collar keeping him from feeling Oikawa’s skin. He had to lift his head again when Oikawa needed to move quickly, reaching out and slamming his prey back against the wall with a laugh that was just as annoying as it was arousing. The sound stirred Ushijima’s blood in ways that confounded him. He heard Kageyama’s breathing accelerate – another pleasing sound.

Ushijima curiously pressed his hips back into Oikawa’s ass, not too forcefully but just enough…he gasped. He was _hard_ , and there was no mistaking the fact that Oikawa could feel him. Ushijima had to hide his face in Oikawa’s shoulder this time. His own quickened breathing added a new dynamic to the sound of Kageyama’s, to the sound of Oikawa’s venomous words stomping all over Kageyama's. Ushijima’s hands tightened possessively on Oikawa’s hips. All of this had to be a dream…

 

***

Oikawa hummed deeply in the back of his throat as a painfully frantic surge of pleasure ran straight through his groin when Tobio melted into a pleading submission. He was slowly losing sense of that groomed control he prided himself on. Needing one of them to enjoy some sort of relief, Oikawa pried open the hem of Tobio's athletic shorts to let the start of his unwanted erection tumble free into the open between them. Heat of desire settled underneath his skin, veins feeling filled with gasoline. Oikawa brought his hand to his mouth and licked a hot, wet stripe along his palm before wrapping his slick fingers around Tobio's stirring length and immediately initiating an unforgiving pump of his wrist.

Using that same sinful tongue, Oikawa crowded his younger and let the tip trail along a pulsating vein in Tobio's neck as he breathed hot filth against his skin, "Don't talk about him? Hah. You don't get to boss me around, Tobio." Oikawa chuckled softly as the smaller boy squirmed against his captors, "You don't want me to talk about him? Say his name? You don't want to hear about all the things I would do to him? To Hinata?"

The nasty king pressed their bodies together until they were flush, letting the tip of Tobio's dick rest against his abdomen as he worked his swollen length. His words were a soft, sultry, taunting growl against Tobio's ear, prodding all those little internally and externally buttons he knew were latent, "I bet he'd make the best noises. I bet you've imagined it a dozen times. He's so tiny I'd be afraid I'd accidentally break him. And then he'd cry. _Oh_ , and _that_ is a pretty picture... I bet he'd cry for you as I fucked him raw and wide open, Tobio. Begging for you to help him. But you can't because you're weak-- and I'm going to take him away from you. Just like you've taken everything from me."

In the heat of the moment, Oikawa's hand had worn dry, pumping an uncomfortable rhythm of friction against Tobio's cock that was sure to make him writhe and reject it. But it was hard to be mindful when he was receiving his own onslaught of aroused adrenaline from Ushijima at his rear-- literally. Oikawa shuddered pleasantly, almost boneless or helpless, as Ushijima enveloped himself over the older setter's shoulders. He arched himself against Ushijima's chest like a cat in heat, reluctantly relinquishing a hand upon Tobio to dive upwards into the young giant's cropped hair. Though they did not converse much in this moment, they had this unspoken understanding, this temporary alliance, again a common opponent. If anyone could, Ushijima understood Oikawa mentally more than most. And could understand him on a deeply physical level as well that way that those greedy hands clawed at his hips to keep him motionless against his blatant erection. Long, brown lashes fluttered, Oikawa exercising every ounce of control to keep his dominance upon Tobio as he silently offered himself up to Ushijima in the same instance.

 

***

Tobio prided himself on being able to control himself fairly well, to not explode with rage more than was necessary. Of course, in Hinata’s presence, he was way more prone to outbursts of anger, but the way Hinata annoyed him was nothing compared to the impotent fury he felt at Oikawa’s words, whispered like an illicit promise into his ear while he was helpless and at Oikawa’s mercy. No more. Never again. He’d won. He and Hinata both, and he would never ever let Oikawa close to Hinata.

He could picture it all too well, exactly as Oikawa said. Hinata was too dumb, too naive and optimistic and pure to ever guess at what lurked behind Oikawa’s seductive smile. He’d be taken in, and taken, hard and fast and without mercy,  and then taken away. Hinata deserved more. Eternal love. Devotion. Adoration. All the things he gave so freely, and the the things that Oikawa was incapable of giving. All the things Kageyama wanted to give, and couldn’t.  He barely registered the stinging stroke of Oikawa’s palm on his dick, his mind providing red-tinged images of Hinata on his knees, crying while Oikawa hurt him, and- no. Hinata was his. He wouldn’t let Oikawa ruin the one thing in his life that made him forget the misery of his junior high years. He’d do anything. _Anything_.

When Oikawa released his grip, reaching back to writhe like a whore against Ushijima (god, had _he_ ever looked like that himself, flushed and panting and so needy against Oikawa while he begged to be defiled? Fuck, it was disgusting. He was disgusting), he reached up lightning-fast and gripped his hand against Oikawa’s throat, crushing his windpipe.

“You won’t touch him,” he said, his voice ringing with a dark threat that he wasn’t even aware he was capable of. “He’s mine. He’d never give in to you.” Not like Tobio had, when he was young and alone and naive. “He _likes_ me. He likes me, you son of a bitch, and I won’t let him go.” Rage clouded his vision, a misty red veil over his eyes, and he slammed his forehead forward into Oikawa’s nose, just like Iwazumi-san had all those years ago, before everything had happened.

 

***

Oikawa frantically choked and sputtered on a twisted chuckle as a sudden, resentful hand came crashing into his airway. He halted his handiwork and brought both hands upwards to claw at Tobio's skin as oxygen became a panicked battle-- angry, red lines rising from his knuckles to his wrist.

Oikawa floundered on desperate words. "G-Get OFF...F...Fucking..." But his stuttering was cut short by a sudden, mortified shriek as Tobio's dense forehead connected with his face at a full, unforgiving force. Oikawa stumbled backwards, cradling his face in his hands as he howled, with enough force to knock back Ushijima's stance and allow the trio some space between one another. Hot, fresh blood poured from the cracks in his fingers, the source being his nose and bottom lip. The noise Oikawa produced then was almost infuriatingly animalistic.

"You... You little fucking shit." He swore, his voice like gravel. Oikawa stared in horror at the blood in his hands that refused to quit.

Fueled by unbridled disgust and humiliation, Oikawa sprinted forward to swallow up their short distance and planted the heel of one of his shoes into Tobio's exposed, vulnerable erection; pressing it into his own gut and grinding slowly. Once Tobio was successfully and painfully subdued, Oikawa swung a prepared, white-knuckled fist across his jaw to wrack his body with two levels of blinding pain. Now, he wasn't sure whose blood painted his knuckles. Oikawa took two handfuls of Tobio's athletic jacket and hurled the younger to the floor beside him, certain that his ability to either defend or fight back had dwindled immensely. The older setter then positioned himself over top of the boy who laid face-first on the tiles and took hold of his hips and lifted to bring him to rest upon his knees. Lucky for him-- which just sounded sick in their current situation-- Tobio still had on his knee pads from the previous match. Oikawa slipped two fingers inside the lip of his own knee pad, but left the brace in tact, and shimmied it down his toned calf. Taking the black elastic in hand, Oikawa bent over Tobio's useless body and bound his wrists with the athletic equipment. He didn't seem too capable of swinging any punches or scrapping for Oikawa's skin, but he wasn't taking any chances now. Being sloppy had landed him with a bloody nose and lip that left his whole face feeling hot and sticky with pain. Oikawa's wild panting had settled into long, deep, noisy breaths.

He took a moment to appreciate the view-- Tobio shakily upon his knees, swollen cheek resting against the cold bathroom tile, firm ass hoisted and vulnerable up in the air. Though it caused his face to throb, Oikawa allowed a satisfied smirk that crinkled his nose. The king hovered himself low over Tobio's body, one hand curling in his tousled, dark fringe to press his head relentlessly into the tiles.

"This is all you're good for, Tobio. Being on your knees-- surrendering to me. I hate you so much less this way." Oikawa then raised his head and genuinely smiled at the image in front of him at eye-level. "Look how fantastic you look, Tobio." The elder setter twisted his wrist so that his careless grip on Tobio's hair cause his head to grind across the tiles until his blurry eyes could see what Oikawa was referring to. A full-length mirror hung on the wall parallel to them, the glass a bit dated and grainy, but still gave way to the full view of their ground-level squabble. Oikawa locked a nasty gaze with mirror-Tobio and relished in his sudden arousal from the violent kink.

 

***

Suddenly ejected from the spiraling situation, Ushijima now had a clear view of the ensuing fight from a relatively safe distance away. It was almost irritating how he didn’t actually _want_ to be safely out of the fray – not entirely. He already missed the feeling of Oikawa’s fingers gently tugging against his hair, of that body heat and the mindless rutting…but he didn’t exactly want to butt into the middle of their fight either. Being a third year in high school, Ushijima had seen his fair share of fights at school, had even been the one to break some of them up before a teacher arrived to handle things. But this was far dirtier than any of the menial scuffling that happened at Shiratorizawa – this was dark, hate-fueled, intense, and personal. Ushijima crossed his arms and watched silently as Oikawa laid into Kageyama, felt his eyes narrow against the heat pooling towards his groin that such a sight caused. He hardly knew anything about Karasuno’s setter, aside from a single encounter whilst running outside of school and the rumors everyone else whispered about him. Clearly Oikawa knew a lot about him, though. Their history was so obvious a blind man would have been able to see it. Oikawa seemed to be mostly alright, in spite of the red blood marring his otherwise pristine features. Ushijima stepped forward once Kageyama had been successfully subdued and kneeled next to him on the side opposite the one Oikawa was on.

“Tell me,” he asked seriously, leaning on his own knees, “are you actually enjoying this, Kageyama?”

He would never admit it aloud, but Ushijima was obsessively curious about what Oikawa planned to do next. The older setter had said some awfully nasty things to Kageyama, things Ushijima agreed with even though he also thought they were petty and unsportsmanlike. That was just how Oikawa was, though. Ushijima could overlook such childishness if it involved more of whatever was making his skin tingle so much. It was best to simply be an observer, for now - to let Oikawa continue to explain what he'd meant outside in the form of this live action, visual demonstration.

 

***

Sometimes Tobio forgot how quickly Oikawa could move, when given the right motivation. His dick ached from Oikawa pressing on it, a sharp immediate, horrible pain. His cheek throbbed where Oikawa had hit him and the back of his head thrilled with renewed agony from where it had bounced off the wall- again. His wrists and shoulders and elbows twinged from where Oikawa had bound them, and he was helpless. Panic swelled up in him, and he tried to struggle, but every movement just prompted Oikawa to grind his face further into the bathroom floor, sending dull pain through his cheekbone and jaw. His eyes had cracked open at Oikawa’s words, and his gaze was caught up by the reflection in the mirror. It twisted his stomach. He could see Oikawa’s leering, triumphant smirk, and he could see how small he looked. He looked incapable. Weak.

But he’d _won,_ dammit, and he wasn’t going to pretend like he had to prove himself. He wasn’t going to take whatever scraps Oikawa deigned to offer him. He didn’t _need_ him anymore. He shifted, ignoring the pain in his face, trying to tug his wrists out of the disgusting kneepad that was keeping them in place. When Oikawa tugged his hair, hard enough that he felt some hair part with his scalp, he desisted, eyes watering from the stinging pain and breathing heavily. He could only see Ushijima in the reflection of the mirror, a giant hulking figure, more physically threatening that Oikawa could ever hope to be, and yet incapable of instilling the same sort of fear that Oikawa did. He glared at Ushijima’s reflection, meeting his eyes in the reflection of the glass.

“Fuck both of you,” Tobio spat, “let me _go,_ Oikawa.”

He struggled again, tugging at his wrists, tears starting to leak out of the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t outright deny Ushijima’s question, though. A small, broken part of him still whispered that this was what he deserved, that it was all he’d ever be good for. That no matter how he tried to practice and make friends and be normal, Oikawa was the only one who had ever taken care of him at _all_ and he should be grateful for the scraps. He told that part of himself to shut up, and thought about Hinata. His big brown eyes going wide and horrified if he saw what was happening, at how weak Tobio could really be. It was unacceptable. He managed to twist enough, rolling onto his side so that Oikawa at least couldn’t grind against his ass.

 

***

It took everything within Oikawa, every little bit of groomed patience, to not grind himself into Tobio without abandon as he surrendered beneath him. His eyes never left the picture of his younger's reflection-- every grimace, every watery look, every glimpse of helpless desire... Oikawa took it all in as if it were the very air he breathed. Feeling Tobio squirm beneath him, Oikawa lowered himself so that he straddled his hips a bit crooked, but his weight alone would be enough to cease the movement. The king loomed over Tobio's battered head upon the floor and descended until he made contact with the back of the younger's neck. He landed a quick, barely-there kiss upon the base of Tobio's spine.

"Fuck us both?" Oikawa downright purred in the back of his throat, letting his hungry lips pepper their way around to Tobio's jawline, "What makes you think you deserve that?" Oikawa made his point with a tight nip of his front teeth at Tobio's Adam's apple before latching himself onto the flesh. He hollowed his cheeks to create a sinful suction, coaxing bruising blood to the surface to leave an aching mark on the side of Tobio's neck. Oikawa retracted briefly to eye his work, smugly aware of his trophy upon the boy in the form of a fresh, tender hickey. Marking Tobio was a fetish all its own. And it was are to be the first of many this afternoon. It was a brand, a symbol, a red flag-- Kageyama Tobio is _mine_ and there is no one or no thing that is ever going to change that. Not even...

"Oops, sorry, Tobio. You may have a bit of a harder time explaining that nasty bruise on your _neck_ to Hinata than you would your pretty black eye." Oikawa tested the mark, as if it were the button to his control upon Tobio; prodding the abused, raw, speckling of blue upon his younger's throat with an unforgiving finger. Returning to business at hand, Oikawa rose his hips just enough to grab a handful of the back of Tobio's athletic shorts in attempt to return him to his original, desired location upon his stomach. But his snarky grin soured into a pout. Oikawa was strong, but through Tobio's current deadweight, and his infuriating stubbornness, he was proving difficult to move. He'd need a little bit more strength. Or a helping hand.

"Ushiwaka," Oikawa sang despite his frustration, "This is where you make your entrance. If you want me to make all your gross, wildest dreams comes true, I'm going to need a little warmup. Hold him down."

 

***

Ushijima’s brows shot up a little at Oikawa casually mentioning his ‘gross, wildest dreams,’ almost like the setter had seen them firsthand, straight out of Ushijima’s repressed memories. Well then. There was no point in hiding his feelings now, he supposed – not if Oikawa already knew. He had to clear his throat a little after hearing Oikawa say he was even willing to participate in making those dreams come true… Ushijima had no idea what god he’d pleased to get so lucky, but simultaneously wrecking Karasuno’s chances at nationals along with hooking up with Oikawa came strikingly close to his idea of a perfect evening. So long as there wasn’t some annoying aftermath to deal with – such as Kageyama running to his coach or his teachers and squawking about the events about to transpire – Ushijima was more than happy to help. And he honestly didn’t think there would be.

If what Oikawa said was true about them having fooled around since _middle school,_ then surely Kageyama would have blabbed to someone by now, if he was ever going to? Surely someone would have noticed? Except that they obviously hadn’t. Oikawa appeared to genuinely still have just as much control over the boy as he claimed to.

Kageyama was just a bit too big to handle alone, so with an indifferent shrug of his broad shoulders, Ushijima shifted his position to the other side of Kageyama and wrapped one of his massive hands around the back of Kageyama’s neck. His fingers reached all the way around both slender sides. It wasn’t difficult at all for Ushijima to apply just enough pressure, restricting much of the blood flow. Kageyama would probably start to feel the loss immediately, with the way his fluttering pulse tried to beat harder beneath Ushijima's fingertips. Restricting it felt _good_ . He used his other free hand to grip the kneepad binding Kageyama’s wrists tighter, since he seemed very determined to break free of it still yet. With the promise of possibly having Oikawa to himself at some point, Ushijima was unwilling to let that happen. He increased the pressure of both grips, then yanked them both hard enough to roll Kageyama back onto his stomach, where he clearly did not want to be. The sight caused Ushijima’s expression to soften in the newfound pleasure of watching someone physically submit to his will. His eyes darted back to Oikawa, almost as though he wanted some sort of reassurance that those feelings were okay to have. He didn’t _really_ need it though. Seeing the way Oikawa smiled while he watched Kageyama’s struggling becoming less and less of a problem held all the proof in the world. More than making Kageyama utterly helpless, it was seeing Oikawa's reaction to it that made Ushijima's heartbeat stutter out of time.

 

***

Hands grasped him, tearing his control away by force, and Tobio couldn’t help the strangled cry of protest as Ushijima’s massive hand restricted the bloodflow to his brain, restricted his air, restricted his movement. He struggled wildly, trying to get away. He was desperate, willing to do anything to just- just escape back to Hinata and the warmth of his smile. They hadn’t even celebrated their victory yet, after endless hours of practice and hard work, and Oikawa was tearing even that chance away from him by force.

Hatred seared through him, deeper and more poisonous than the hate of competitive rivalry. He hated Oikawa, hated what he had done, hated everything about his stupid handsome face, twisted up in cruelty. Hated himself for being weak to it, as always. He’d grown so much, but not enough. Not enough to resist, not when merciless hands held him down and his back arched, partly from the pain and partly because the part of himself that he _hated_ yearned for the stretch and burn of Oikawa’s cock, and. Fuck, it made him sick.

“Hinata won’t care,” he managed to say, his voice a choked gasp in the unrelenting grip of Ushijima’s hand. “He doesn’t care what you can do. He’s stronger than you, and I’m stronger than you because of him. Just give up. We won. Let me go, and you’ll never have to see me again.” Desperation tinged his voice. He just wanted to get away, didn’t want to have to deal with the things Oikawa made him feel, just wanted to get back and enjoy the happiness he’d been feeling until he wandered like a fly into Oikawa’s trap. He struggled again, pulling futilely at Ushijima’s grip. He hated the hulking ace too, for being so weak that he went along with whatever Oikawa said, all for the promise of Oikawa’s mouth and body. It wasn’t worth it, and Tobio knew that all too well.  He couldn’t move, not enough to get away.

“I hate you,” he spat, still shifting as much as he could. He wouldn’t give up without a fight. “We beat you, _Oikawa-senpai_ , and whatever you do to me won’t change that.”

 

***

Once Ushijima had taken over the reins, a bit literally, Oikawa rose to his feet and stepped away from Tobio's used, sprawled form to take in the scene. Oikawa almost laughed. Ushijima had the poor boy by the scruff of the neck with one big, brutish hand-- the other smartly went to his poorly-bound wrists. Every restless writhe and tempting arch of his back would not go unnoticed. Tobio's body betrayed him as usual. He was like a big, dumb, open book. And Oikawa wanted to rip out and devour every page. While the elder setter enjoyed the show, it was a bit of a mood-killer listening to him spurt off brave rebuttals and nonsense. Like he was some sort of goddamn hero in a story. The problem, most importantly, with that was that most stories have happy endings. Oikawa had no intention of that. There would be no white knight, no magic, no true love's kiss.

There were just these three boys-- three boys with some deep latent, self-destructive, self-loathing charge that had led them to this dirty bathroom floor that stunk of sweat and the promise of sex. Oikawa paced away to the far wall and paused at one of the porcelain sinks, hands resting upon the siding.

"If I didn't know exactly what got you off, Tobio, I'd swear you got off to volleyball from the way you drone on about it," The setter eyed himself then in a smaller mirror that hung above the sink where he had perched himself. Oikawa grimaced prettily at his own reflection and darted the tip of his tongue above his lip where a thick stream of blood had settled and dried. More importantly, he combed his fingers through his tousled mess of brown curls to restore some sort of order back into his appearance, "Even when I'm about to shove my cock inside of you. Frankly, I'm offended."

Oikawa wasted no more time and turned to a metal dispenser parallel to him upon the wall. Without thought or debate, Oikawa reached out to it, as if this were all an elaborate, orchestrated plan that he had finally brought to a head. The setter reached forward and pressed a jutted knob, a palm cupped beneath to catch the thick, pinkish gel that deposited into his hand. Once a satisfying amount was contained, to the point where it dribbled through the cracks in his fingers, Oikawa turned back to his peers who were still upon the ground in their one-sided fight for dominance. He crouched back into his prior position, curling a finger around the hem of Tobio's uniform shorts and allowed himself the slow tempo of pulling the fabric down and around the younger's tight rear. Oikawa smiled almost endearingly as a rush of goosebumps pricked upon the suddenly-chilled flesh of Tobio's behind. Though it wasn't entirely a mystery as to what Oikawa was planning, he kept silent. Taking the empty hand that remained dry, Oikawa darted the limb in between both soft cheeks and blindly sought the tight, puckered rim of Tobio's entrance. Once he located his destination, Oikawa circled the knot with the calloused tip of his middle finger before plunging it hard, fast, dry, and deep. Oikawa let the knuckle slip past the grip, and refused to ease until the webbing of his fingers met with the base of Tobio's ass. Oikawa bit at his lip. There was a slight burn upon his skin in the aggravated stretch of his dry finger. He could only imagine what Tobio felt in that instant. And he did imagine. And then he didn't care.

"That's for almost breaking my nose, you little shit." Oikawa eventually began to pump him, stretching him with a single digit in a bit of a labored pattern without aid. After a few moments of his dry stretch, Oikawa finally brought his other hand into the equation. He removed his middle finger with a bit of resistance to coat all of his digits in the slick, pink, pump soap. Slippery fingers returned to Tobio's entrance and hardly waited for an invitation. The same middle finger, now properly slicked, plunged into him and demanded a steady beat almost instantly.

"Just so you know, I'm only doing this so that you don't rub my dick raw. This is all we have available in here unfortunately. But how fitting. You're so disgusting on the inside, Tobio, that I have to literally lube my dick up with soap..." Oikawa gave a nasty chime of a chuckle at his own remark, crossing his index and middle finger before spiraling downwards back into Tobio's ass to begin to spread him open.

 

***

“Hinata’s-” Tobio moaned, helpless and broken. The soap stung, an aching burn that he couldn’t rid himself of, and Oikawa’s fingers were hot and painful and just what he wanted, as much as he hated them. “He’s not a child,” he gasped, twisting as Oikawa’s fingers brushed against him just right, so purposeful and knowledgeable, and even Hinata didn’t know him like that.

No one but Oikawa knew how to exert such delicious, painful pleasure, and his back arched and he moaned into the disgusting tile of the bathroom, helpless to stop it. Even the burn of the soap was what he wanted, cleaning him out, making him whole again, but. It wasn’t _right_. He was so much more, now, more than he’d ever hoped to be. He knew he wouldn’t have to stand alone, not with the whole of his team behind him, not with the ball of sunshine that knew on instinct every perfect movement.

“We beat you,” he gasped, his breath cut short by the pressure of Ushijima’s hand and by the relentless stretch of Oikawa’s long, familiar fingers. “ _Oikawa-san_ ,” he gasped as Oikawa pressed the burning soap relentlessly  into him. He tried to struggle again, not wanting any of it, and yet his movements were so weak compared to the strength and span of Ushijima’s hands. Even with the stinging of the soap, Oikawa’s fingers knew him better than they should, and he could feel himself shaking under the assault.

“No,” he moaned, eyes clenching shut in a vain attempt to ignore what was happening. “No, no no no.” He was worth something, no matter what Oikawa said. They’d _won_. He’d thought victory would feel better than Oikawa’s long, sensuous fingers slicked up with stinging soap.

 

***

Ushijima's cheeks flared so hot he felt it all the way down his neck as he watched Oikawa's preparations. He wasn't exactly privy to the process of how two men had sex, and seeing it for the first time in such a crude manner made him feel flooded with embarrassment. How was Kageyama not just as flushed? Experience? Maybe it wasn't even the act, necessarily, but more so Ushijima's own inexperience and lack of subject knowledge that made him feel self conscious. He didn't _know_ how he was supposed to act or react to any of this. Oikawa didn't seem to mind though, especially so focused on Kageyama like he was. Plus he'd given Ushijima such a nice front row seat to watch as it all went down. Oikawa couldn't be expecting _too_ much out of Ushijima this first time.

"That is true," Ushijima said quietly, letting up on his grip only a fraction just so Kageyama would not pass out, "But do you still think you can defeat _me_ , Kageyama? You certainly aren't in a position to right now. What makes you think for a second that you and that small child you allow to play middle blocker can overcome what Oikawa-san could not, even after years and years of chances and experience gained in trying to?"

  

***

Anchoring himself upon Tobio's thighs, Oikawa straddled a leg on each side of his form as he invaded the younger's body. A strong, flowery scent stung his nose from the sheer volume of the pinkish soap that dribbled around his long digits and onto Tobi's abused flesh. Oikawa was able to pump his wrist sternly now, the boy's body beneath him giving way to his viciously intimate assault-- two fingers now; twisting, spreading, curling, reaching, searching...

The setter on top pressed his lips into a tight smile and echoed a laugh in the back of his throat, "Tobio, you're so pathetic. You can beg all you want, but you sound pretty stupid when your body gives you away. Look at you, arching your back into me-- do you think I don't see that? You're still just as much of a needy, filthy slut now as you were back then." Oikawa rutted his hips gently into the underneath of Tobio's ass at the remembrance, humming a sound of satisfaction. "Do you remember the first time I had you like this...? How much you begged me to touch you? How much you begged for release? Hinata doesn't know this side of you, does he, Tobio? He can't fill you up and make you whole again like Oikawa-San."

The smile twisted into a nasty grin, pelvis still seeking contact against the smaller boy's warm body in his own sudden need for attention. Oikawa brought his eyes forward again, meeting the perplexed but entranced gaze of Ushijima. His lips were slightly parted in his anxious, unsteady breaths and his tanned skinned glowed from the rush. Oikawa licked his lips. How the hell was it possible for someone to look so intimidating and yet so utterly wrecked already? Their eyes caught in similar, glossy gazes. Oikawa leaned over Tobio's body into Ushijima's space and purred a throaty moan as he grew restless in the presence of an additional participant. It wasn't fair if Tobio got to have all the fun. The elder setter snatched the front of the Shiratorizawa uniform is his free hand and yanked the taller boy forward into a crash of a desperate, scorching kiss. Tongues warred for dominance, but in all senses, Oikawa had proven already that he didn't mind playing sexual-second-best for dominance at the ace's mercy.

"Ushiwaka," he keened, rolling his hips pointedly into Tobio, "Show me what those big hands can do, come on... Get me ready for him."

 

***

In a sort of blissed-out daze, Ushijima found himself ignoring Kageyama and listening to Oikawa whisper delicious filth into Kageyama’s ear instead. Word after word tumbled from those pretty lips – taunts, insults, jabs and verbal abuse that cut sharply through the air like an invisible, swishing knife carving Kageyama into this panting, writhing mess of a person. It was fascinating - _entrancing_ to watch Oikawa work like this. Even when the elder setter started reminiscing about the times he and Kageyama had had sex in the past, Ushijima thought that the quick pangs of jealousy coursing through his own body were somewhat enjoyable. They mingled with other pangs of pleasure, raw and unbridled waves flowing southward, towards his groin.

And as though Oikawa could read his mind once again, like it was obvious, he looked right at Ushijima’s deepening frown, his parted lips and heavy breathing, with sudden, hungry intent. Ushijima barely had time to swallow dryly before Oikawa was darting forward, crashing those lips Ushijima had just been admiring against his own. The force of Oikawa’s tongue invading Ushijima’s mouth felt almost more exquisite than all the times Ushijima had tried pleasuring himself at home, because now this was someone _else’s_ body heat to share, someone else’s saliva, someone else’s movements and moans and pressure. The fact that this ‘someone else’ happened to arguably be the only person Ushijima has ever been attracted to made Oikawa’s kiss oh so much sweeter. A bit of shock caused Ushijima to jerk back initially, but he wasn’t frozen still for long – maybe the span of a heartbeat or two. Then he was leaning forward, adding harsher pressure to the already violent kiss, flicking his tongue against Oikawa’s like how Oikawa had just done. His grip on the kneepad binding Kageyama’s wrists tightened and pulled to the point that it was probably very painful, but Ushijima was distracted and did not care to let up—at least not until Oikawa pulled back long enough to direct a sultry request at him. Ushijima frowned, still.

“You want me to….pleasure you?” he whispered cautiously.

He had to remind himself to breathe, and doing so at least cooled down his face a bit. The way Oikawa kissed him made it feel like it was melting off. It made his hips want to move on their own… Touching Oikawa meant releasing Kageyama, though. That could prove…troublesome. Oikawa’s eyes were dark, honed in on exactly what he wanted, hooded low, pupils blown. Ushijima wanted to make Kageyama disappear – wanted to be the sole reason Oikawa’s eyes looked at him like that – but he knew he wasn’t. He knew how much Oikawa was also enjoying the pain and pleasure being inflicted upon Kageyama. Ushijima felt a slight growl, or a rumbling note of disgust rather, curl out from the back of his throat. His frown deepened, unsure if he should really let go of his too-tight hold on Karasuno’s setter. The grip on Kageyama’s neck tightened again, nearly choking him this time.

 

***

Oikawa’s words sent Tobio’s cock jumping,  and he detested himself. He did remember, in vivid detail. He remembered how the gym floor had smelled, how Oikawa’s hands had teased cruelly, never touching him quite as much as he wanted, how he’d believed like an idiot that Oikawa was the only one who could give him what he needed. He knew it wasn’t true, but it was a logical sort of knowledge. Knowing that he had friends and a great team didn’t stop the visceral yearning for Oikawa’s approval, which was irrational and beyond his control. Hinata _would_ never know him like this. Oikawa was right about that. But that was fine, he could ignore the cracks in his soul whenever Oikawa wasn’t around to break them open.

He was making himself better, worthy of an actual partner who cared about more than just beating him at every turn.. He’d been so good, so confident in his budding self-esteem, and their victory on the court had seemed like a sign that he’d put Oikawa’s torment behind him. And yet, here he was, on his knees, filthy and humiliated and restrained, and his cock was twitching with want. Hinata would probably hate him, if he knew. Hinata would never believe that Tobio could help him be strong. He’d walk away, just like everyone had. Oikawa was the only one who still wanted him, even if it was like this.  It had been a long time since he’d been fucked, and Oikawa’s fingers opened up a deep need in him, a need to be filled and controlled and touched and praised for being _so good._ He moaned and whined as Oikawa’s fingers pressed relentlessly against his prostate, panting into the tile floor. He could just barely make out his wrecked reflection in the mirror through his half-slitted eyes, and he looked even filthier than Oikawa had when grinding up against Ushijima. Why did he need this so badly? He wanted to be better, he’d tried to be better, to be someone worthy of Hinata’s bright smile, but he never would be.

Oikawa and Ushijima were pressing against each other too, a battle of strength that made him feel even smaller as he watched them kiss, and watched how easily Ushijima took control. The hand on his neck tightened, and he managed a quick grunt before his air was cut off completely. His head swam as he struggled feebly, the lack of oxygen combined with the fingers inside him too much to handle. He felt himself fading, his vision going fuzzy and pleasure spiking through him, and then Ushijima’s hand let up enough for him to gasp in a breath. He ground back helplessly against Oikawa’s fingers, suddenly desperately chasing the orgasm that eluded him.

“Please,” he moaned, eyes slamming shut as tears started to leak out of the corners. He let out a ragged sob, wrists trying to twist free in their bindings, free of Ushijima’s grip.  “Just. Please let me go, Oikawa, please.” He didn’t know what he was asking for, escape or completion or what. He just knew he’d have to take what Oikawa would give, and he’d cling to the scraps.

 

***

Oikawa rolled his body forward, the action driving his curled fingers deeply inside the sinfully warm caress of his kouhai, while simultaneously knocking broad sternums with Ushijima to keep their lips entangled. His chest swelled with filthy arrogance. To have both of his clandestine rivals ultimately at his mercy. Oikawa had beaten Tobio into a tormented submission, and all with the same hands that had invited Ushijima to utterly dominate him. Breathing was hard, the older man's rapidly growing intensity taking Oikawa bit by surprise-- but not unwanted. Speak of of not breathing... Oikawa tightly gripped the wrist that was successfully crushing Tobio's windpipe and pried Ushijima'a behemoth grip free upon the boy upon hearing the choking sounds from beneath him.

"Ushiwaka, you're going to kill him," Oikawa chuckled against the ace's swollen lips as if it were all just so blasé, stealing a peek downwards at Tobio who had his watery eyes tightly shut against the bathroom tiles, "Oh _god_ , but do I love hearing you beg, Tobio..." The older setter keened in the back of his throat, feeling his own needy erection press helplessly against his athletic shorts. The sound gurgled into an aggravated growl, the magic of his deception wearing thin as arousal consumed all coherent demeanor, "Fuck, Ushiwaka, could you be any more stupid? _Touch me_ ...Even someone as dense as you knows how to jerk a dick. I shouldn't have to ask twice." There was implied _‘Do you know how lucky you are?’_ that Oikawa spared them all.

The Grand King took his free hand and rolled the front hem of his shorts down far enough for his stirring length to escape, nestled between coarse, dark brown curls. Of course his genitalia would have that same stupid haircut. He sighed a groan in relief, the pressure having been almost painful. Wasting little time, Oikawa lunged forth and snatched Ushijima's freed hand and coaxed it to his throbbing dick, shivering in delight at the rush of heat the older's boy closeness wracked through his groin. Oikawa downright sobbed a short, filthy sound of approval then-- Ushijima's hand was so _big_ , so warm, so new, so foreign, so rough, so tentative but willing...

"Why do I surround myself with virgins." The question was rhetorical, his voice sounding broken and the threat in his tone had melted into a sultry, hungry purr.

Oikawa had patiently been working at the addition of a third finger inside of Tobio all the while, the extra digit waiting patiently outside and massaging the tight ring of muscles at Tobio's entrance. Now that Oikawa had achieved the pleasure he had demanded, it seemed only fair to project that relief. His third digit slipped through the tight, slippery mess that he had made until all three fingers slid in comfortably to the hilt.

"I'm going to spoil you with all this prep, Tobio... You're lucky Ushiwaka is here to entertain me, since you've decided to turn into a rebellious, ungrateful brat." Oikawa angled his wrist and dove his invading fingers into the spots he'd learned well from experience of this boy. Oikawa would fill this tiny room with the chorus of their cries.

 

***

Ushijima’s eyes narrowed upon hearing Oikawa’s snide remarks. Of course he knew what Oikawa meant, he was just…unsure of himself, mostly. He’d never done this sort of sexual activity with anyone else before. But clearly Oikawa wanted this, with the way he greedily pulled his cock free of its confines and snatched Ushijima’s hand away from Kageyama’s neck with the unbridled purpose of latching it where it belonged. Ushijima supposed he could wing it. A sharp inhale accompanied his grip naturally tightening around Oikawa’s length, tighter and tighter to where it was _almost_ painful, but not quite enough to actually hurt. He gave his wrist a few good flicks, pumping the hot, velvety skin between his fingers like it was his job. Mechanical. Forceful. Clinical and stern. Good, but lacking the passion Oikawa so often displayed. The motion was distinctly Ushijima’s.

“Should I prepare you like what you’ve done to Kageyama then?” Ushijima asked, eyes falling a few shades darker as they went half-lidded. Hungry. “Because I have something that might work better than bathroom soap…” Almost subconsciously, Ushijima released his other hand from the kneepad and felt around in his jacket pocket to make sure the small container of Vaseline he used to keep the skin on his hands from cracking was still there. The thought of having sex with Oikawa temporarily dislodged Ushijima from reality.

Suddenly he was fantasizing again, picturing what it might feel like to coax Oikawa’s insides open, to pressure him into submission, sending wave after wave of mind wracking pleasure through his perfect body until he couldn’t stand it anymore and begged for the release that only Ushijima would be able to give him… Ushijima groaned deeply, a sound that resonated all the way up from his abdomen. Faster movements fell upon Oikawa’s dick, powered through the force of Ushijima’s fantasy – quick, strict pleasure that would no doubt bring Oikawa to his peak in no time with how turned on he already was. Ushijima wasn’t exactly sure how close Oikawa was when he suddenly stopped his ministrations, but he was certain the other was close _enough_ from the way Oikawa’s body twitched and jerked, the way his breathing quickened and his chest heaved with need. Ushijima sat back on his haunches and simply stated,

“Show me,” with a sidelong glance at Kageyama’s writhing form on the tiles. His eyes eventually landed on the fingers disappearing and reappearing from Kageyama’s ass. Ushijima noted everything – every angle, the speed, the thrust and velocity, every stretch and press and push. He understood very clearly that he wanted to do that to Oikawa, and that he was probably willing to wait an eternity to make it happen.

 

***

Kageyama couldn’t hold back the desperate cry of need as Oikawa stretched him open with a third finger. He’d forgotten what it felt like, that deep burn, and when he used his own fingers, it never compared to the skill and expertise of Oikawa’s long fingers. His back arched into an almost painful bow, his chest resting fully against the tile floor.

“Please,” he moaned, eyes clenched shut so he didn’t have to see his debauched reflection.

He didn’t really care anymore, didn’t care that Oikawa had this sort of power over him. It wasn’t so bad, when Oikawa also made him feel so whole, made him feel pain and delicious pleasure at his own whim. It wasn’t so bad to relinquish control. When Ushijima released him completely, though, Oikawa’s fingers faltered in him too, and Kageyama cracked his eyes open. He saw in the mirror Ushijima forcefully stroking Oikawa, who was shuddering and moving against him, looking as blissed-out as Kageyama felt.

The sight made him snap back to reality, the pleasure receding enough that he remembered again why he didn’t want it, why it was fucked up beyond belief. He started tugging on the wrist brace as quickly as he could while Oikawa was distracted, and without fingers up his ass, it was easy enough to focus on something besides writhing around and slide it off. He had to get away. This was so wrong. It was wrong that he wanted it, and the only thing he could think of to stop it was to get away. He knew he was worth more than being Oikawa’s toy, as much as part of him wanted to just be used and abused and discarded and left wanting more, frantic for Oikawa’s touch. That part of him was wrong. He was worth what Hinata saw in him, and the thought of Hinata’s horrified, scandalized face if he knew what was happening was enough to make him lurch forward, hands scrabbling at the tiles as he tried to pull himself free from Oikawa’s weight. His arms weren’t working like though should, though, still tired from the match and stiff and numb from being restrained, and his muscles trembled with the exertion.

 

***

Oikawa's eyes went wide, pupils blown as Ushijima's hand retrieved a small vial from his pocket in promise of pleasuring him more successfully. He watched quietly at first, gauging the older boy’s every naive move. But he did well. He did great, actually. It was... _Oh, god_ . Oikawa hissed as Ushijima worked him at a rigorous pace almost immediately and locked his grip on tightly. It sent little shrill, signals of panic initially through Oikawa's veins as the ace pumped him achingly hard, his strength not allowing for much breathing room for his throbbing cock.

"Ushijima..." The setter warned through gritted teeth, sparing him the childish nickname. "Slow down." Oikawa's head sagged into his chest and he exhaled ragged breaths that sometimes landed on high, keened noises. He watched as the muscular hand worked him over, tanned skin glossy with makeshift-lube and Oikawa's own escaped fluids. "If you make me cum before I fuck him, you will regret it..."

Oikawa had to reluctantly pry Ushijima from his needy body, though his eyes had near rolled into the back of his head, just as he felt the younger boy beneath him squirm. Tobio was attempting yet another laughable getaway as he had successfully un-cuffed himself from the knee pad-- hands were frantically scrabbling at the tiles to pull himself free from underneath Oikawa's weight. How dare he... How dare he interrupt this moment that Oikawa had orchestrated and wet-dreamed about for too long. Too long to have some rebellious brat ruin it all. Still painfully hard, precum weeping from his tip, Oikawa managed to clear his fuzzy head long enough to react.

"I've played nice with you, Tobio..." The elder setter growled under his breath, his usual, playful demeanor set aside.

He lunged forward and grasped Tobio tightly at the bare waist with both powerful hands and gave a demanding _tug_ to bring the younger boy back squarely beneath him. The slick uniform glided effortlessly along the bathroom tiles, and Tobio's position was more than compromising. Tired of his own games, Oikawa lined himself up with Tobio's reddened entrance. One hand spread his cheeks, while the other hand guided his slicked length.

"You should know by now that you're better off just giving in." Oikawa then plunged himself inside of Tobio without warning, biting his lip at the sudden, scalding pressure. His whole body rolled into an arch, easing his way all the way into the younger in just a few, deep bucks of his hips. Once his pelvis reached the hilt of Tobio's ass, Oikawa craned his head back and cooed a groan in relief. _Fuck_ , it had been way too long since he'd last been inside this boy. He was just the right amount of rebellious submission that kept Oikawa drunk on his existence. It felt just like their first time all over again. It was bliss.

"You're so tight, Tobio... You're always so goddamn tight." Oikawa slapped skin with Tobio in of a rhythm, only allowing them the initial slowness for Oikawa's own settling. But it was impressive how quickly they fell into a natural, urgent, familiar rhythm. Once the elder was sure that Tobio was successfully subdued, he enacted the most deliciously vile forms of punishment. Never missing a beat, Oikawa hovered over Tobio and invaded one of his jacket pockets. The room was distracting-- stuffy with the wet sounds of slapping, bare skin and humid with desperately breaths. And in that distraction, Oikawa retrieved what he had desired.

In one hand, he held Tobio's cellphone. His lower half bucked, rolled, ground into the young boy's so effortlessly while he worked that it seemed as if they had done it for ages. With a thumb, Oikawa flipped open the dark blue phone and padded the plastic buttons until he finally hit the 'call' button. A monotonous chiming echoed into the receiver as he waited for whomever to respond. But Oikawa Tooru didn't like wasting his time. Instead, he chucked the dated phone across the room-- just barely out of Tobio's reach and let the ringing drone on in the mix of their disgusting chorus. "I want your bitch to hear every little, helpless sound you make as I fuck you until you break."

 

***

The burning friction of Oikawa’s cock searing into him made Tobio howl in agony and glorious pleasure. It was ferocious, animalistic, and the masochistic side of him was glad that he’d managed to piss Oikawa off enough to attract all his attention again. The slight praise made him moan, his brain fizzing into nothing but the sensation of getting fucked exactly as he liked, fast and painful. He only enjoyed it for the first thrust of Oikawa’s dick, though, and then the _fucking bastard_ grabbed his phone and dialed Hinata. Helpless, wretched shame washed through him, making his body shudder.

“No,” he gasped, tears starting to prick at his eyes. He reached out, fingers scrabbling desperately to get at the phone and turn it off before Hinata could pick up, but Oikawa just hauled him backwards again and impaled him with his cock. He moaned, and the phone started ringing. “No, Oikawa, no, fuck, please, I’ll do anything you want, just please hang it up, I can’t, I can’t.”

He was babbling, but he couldn’t imagine anything worse than Hinata picking up and hearing him like this, the sound of Oikawa’s thighs slapping against his ass, of the unbridled moans that were torn from his throat. The phone rang again. _Please don’t pick up_ , he thought helplessly, and went boneless against the floor, moaning and whimpering embarrassing, high pitched sounds as Oikawa fucked him relentlessly. Even if Hinata didn’t pick up, it would go to his voicemail, and Tobio would never be able to look at him again. He’d have to quit the team, and Oikawa would have wrecked him more thoroughly than he thought possible. Tears streamed freely down his face, and he pleaded again, feeling like his twelve-year-old self all over.

“Please, senpai, I’ll be good, I’ll do what you want, just please don’t let him know.”

 

***

Nothing could have prepared Ushijima for seeing Oikawa be so reckless, so primal and uninhibited, while he fucked Kageyama mercilessly into the bathroom floor. It was the single most sensuous act Ushijima had ever witnessed with his own two eyes. It made his cheeks burn and his gut churn, skin itching. He shifted his hips to the left, to the right, hunched back and forth uncomfortably until he finally gave in and slipped his pre-slicked hand below the waistband of his shorts to finally grasp his own straining cock in a firm, warm grip. Who was going to see them anyway? If anyone from their respective teams was trying to look for them, Ushijima presumed they would have been here by now.

Liquid pleasure soothed his nerves, set his blood on fire while he watched the two setters in their act of distasteful depravity. The fact that Hinata might suddenly hear his partner in such a state of distress was merely an added bonus to Ushijima’s arousal. Ushijima did not care about Kageayama’s relationship with Hinata – Shiratorizawa was going to win regardless – but he cared that doing this was pleasing to Oikawa. He was mostly focused on the way Oikawa’s thigh muscles quivered from the exertion anyway, lightly tanned strength peeking out from his white and turquoise shorts, moving relentlessly against Kageyama’s quaking body. When he felt himself growing a bit too close to orgasm, Ushijima stopped and clucked his tongue quietly.

Without a word, he made his way over to the bathroom door and locked it, ensuring that whether anyone came for them or not, it wouldn’t matter. The sound of the lock clicking in place made seconds seem to stretch out endlessly, as though the three boys occupying the bathroom suddenly had all the time in the world. Ushijima couldn’t steady his breathing, couldn't regain the control he'd had over himself earlier, but that also didn’t matter. What mattered now was keeping Oikawa entertained, so again, without a word to otherwise express his intentions, Ushijima casually made his way over to where Kageyama’s cell phone was on the floor. He picked it up without ending the call and brought it back to where the two setters were still going at it hard on the floor, and he stood over the two of them while he held the phone in his dry hand.

“I think it might sound better from this angle,” Ushijima said, cheeks flaming, aching cock tenting his shorts somewhere just above where Oikawa’s face would be if he would only raise his head. He didn't resume jerking off, though every nerve in his body urged him to continue. He watched in silent neutrality, a poised picture of unempathetic curiosity shadowing over Kageyama and Oikawa.

 

***

A brilliant splay had been laid out before Oikawa as if he truly were some sort of vile King. Tobio had dissolved into a babbling submissive mess beneath him, impaled upon his cock. And Ushijima sat at their side, finally allowing himself his own reward as a hand disappeared into his maroon shorts. Oikawa licked his lips as he watched. Feeling the slightest bubble of jealousy as Ushijima kept his hands quietly to himself. He'd gotten a taste of those legendary hands, and now he was practically vibrating in anticipation of having them upon him again. On him, in him-- all over him, until Ushijima's fingerprints etched themselves into Oikawa's skin.

Tobio's squawking from below retrieved his attention. He begged and pleaded for Oikawa, offered himself like some sort of filthy martyr, to end his torment. Oikawa was unfazed at first, hoping to give the shrimp an earful of his partner's ruining. But for better or worse, Tobio's words had some intoxicating persuasion over him. Oikawa's gaze fell to the younger boy and drank in the sight-- his writhing, shameful body that loved the filth, tears marred his cheeks because he knew that this was not what he'd bargained for, pleads spilling from his mouth like a mantra in hopes of protecting his little sunshine. Oikawa smiled an endearing, crooked grin as Ushijima halted his own pleasure to assist him. The giant bastard had collected Tobio's cellphone only to bring it closer to the action. If Tobio were only this obedient... he'd be in far less pain right now.

"Some day, Tobio, you're not going to be so cute when you beg. You'll have to actually learn how to put up a fight."

Oikawa took the phone gently from Ushijima's fingers and reluctantly hit the cancel button to silence the call just as the shrimp's voicemail began to roll over. Oikawa laid the phone to rest upon the tiles beside them. The setter coaxed Ushijima closer to his side and gave him a resuming smile.

"Ushiwaka, you might just be my new favorite." Once they shared close quarters, Oikawa reached forward and curled two fingers beneath the hem of Ushijima's shorts and shimmied them down enough to where his neglected dick had been contained. Once the full length rolled forward, jutting just beneath the cut of Ushijima's hips, Oikawa's throat went uncomfortably dry. "Good _god_ , Ushiwaka... No wonder you're so slow with a thing like that weighing you down."

The older boy's sheer size was almost unreal. Any pride Oikawa had felt over his own endowment was immediately humbled. But he didn't even realize. He didn't even get it. The unwavering, focused look on Ushijima's face never cracked once in a smug acknowledgment. Oikawa lightly swallowed as he felt himself near salivate. He tested the erection with his fingers first, tips sliding along the smooth, hot expanse that seemed never ending and girthy. Oikawa swooped in and exhaled a humid breath upon the head of Ushijima's cock. Sinful tongue coiled out from between his lips and lapped at a prominent vein on the underside.

"Be eternally grateful that I haven't unleashed this thing upon you yet, Tobio," Oikawa blindly reached to the floor for the younger's abandoned cellphone and flipped the device open once more. He held it high above them in the air and posed, the shutter sound of a camera resounding. Oikawa admired his work-- the photo displayed a victorious, sultry smiling face from Oikawa; bare from the waist down, like the younger boy beneath him, and leviathan of a cock in-hand. "Tell me how glad you are to be taking my dick."

 

***

Tobio could only moan, cheeks wet from tears as he shuddered in relief when Hinata’s familiar voicemail message was cut short (who else sounded that excited in a voicemail message? It was ridiculous). He heard the click of his cell phone camera’s shutter, but that didn’t bother him. He’d delete it later. Seeing a picture wouldn’t be any worse than seeing what was happening to him in the mirror. He’d given in, just like Oikawa must have know he would, dammit, but he’d had no choice, really. Oikawa had a disgusting amount of control over him, and over his body, but he also knew how to cajole Oikawa into giving him what he wanted. He hadn’t been sure the begging would work, not with Ushijima’s unknown presence there. Tobio had been afraid that Oikawa would let the call ring, just to prove how nasty he could be. But it had always been the most effective method in the past, and Tobio was at least used to the humiliation that always rose up from having to debase himself. But it was worth it. He could let Oikawa take him and use him and hurt him, but he couldn’t let Oikawa take volleyball away from him.

And now Tobio was reduced to a sobbing mess, feeling so good as the tight friction of Oikawa’s cock stretched him and burned him, hitting all the right places. His legs were trembling, and he was getting close to coming without any attention at all being paid to his leaking dick. It really had been too long since he’d given up control like this, and his mind was able to drift into a familiar haze where the only things he cared about were pleasing Oikawa and getting more of the terrible pleasure his senpai could bestow. He kept his back arched in submission, his hands resting under his forehead to keep his bruised eye from slamming into the tile floor, and he gave Oikawa what he wanted.

“Thank you,” he whimpered, his voice as high-pitched and thready as it had been three years ago. “Thank you, thank you, ah, _fuck_ , please fuck me harder, _god_ I need it.”

 

_***_

_Pathetic_ , Ushijima found himself thinking while he listened to Kageyama’s simpering gratitude towards Oikawa. He understood not wanting to appear weak to anyone, especially one’s own teammate, but why let your feelings get in the way to this extent? How was this sort of degradation worth it, worth salvaging Hinata’s opinion of Kageyama? Ushijima was certain he had his own fucked up feelings for Oikawa, but he absolutely could not fathom giving the vindictive setter this amount of control over himself, mentally or physically. It was hard enough to deal with emotionally. Ushijima knew how to keep his feelings in check though, and he’d be damned if he let Oikawa run rampant with them like he was with Kageyama’s.

That train of thought sent another twinge of need straight to his cock when he suddenly realized he’d been spaced out long enough to just now see Oikawa slipping said cock free of its confines, nuzzling a hand against its slightly slick warmth. If Ushijima wasn’t a hundred percent certain that he was wide awake right now, he would have assumed he’d fallen into the most vivid wet dream his mind had ever conjured. It wasn’t a dream though; Oikawa’s hand on his length was just as real as the sound of slapping skin beneath them, the digital camera shutter sound of Tobio’s phone creating photographic evidence of their encounter (with Oikawa as the focus, it seemed), the harsh breathing escalating through his own nostrils and the echo of those noises all over the room.

Seeing Oikawa look up at him like that set Ushijima on fire, eyes blazing. The warm breath caressing his most sensitive area made him want to scream – made the itchy feeling underneath his skin escalate to entirely foreign proportions. His free, dry hand moved on its own most basic instinct into Oikawa’s mop of brown curls. He took a moment to sift through them, appreciating that they were softer than he imagined they would feel against the calloused pads of his fingers. Oikawa was very pretty, even smirking devilishly like he was or…oh _god…_ The tongue suddenly slipping from that sinful mouth and along the underside of Ushijima’s shaft made his hand reflexively grip into Oikawa’s hair, tugging a giant fistful of it closer to his pelvis, bumping his dick into Oikawa’s face. His erection throbbed hopefully against the skin Oikawa’s cheek, but it wasn’t enough; Ushijima wanted more. He yanked Oikawa’s head back again, anchored his vacant hand to the other side of Oikawa’s hair in a powerful, twofold hold, and forced his face forward until his cockhead was pressing insistently against those flappy lips. The thought of shutting Oikawa up like this became instantly all too appealing. His constant focus on Kageyama-this and Kageyama-that was annoying. Ushijima’s grip quivered, tightened a bit more than was necessary, keeping Oikawa’s line of sight honed in on nothing but the base of Ushijima’s dick nestled amongst the short, coarse hairs surrounding it.

He could care less if Oikawa was still fucking Kageyama at this point. With his heart still hammering up into his throat like it had been this entire time, Ushijima blandly stated, “Shut up, Oikawa,” and slowly – oh so slowly, fuck, why were his hands shaking so much? – guided Oikawa’s face forward once he was certain his length would push between Oikawa’s lips.

They opened wide for him, stretched considerably by Ushijima’s girth – so much so that he could feel Oikawa’s teeth straining to keep from biting down, jaw dropped low. He pulled Oikawa closer still, felt his lips stretch wider to accommodate him even a third of the way. Ushijima groaned from the heat and the wet, slick pressure that felt _nothing_ like the friction of his own hand. His hips involuntarily jerked forward somewhat, lightly hitting the roof of Oikawa’s mouth towards the back, before he cleared his throat softly and pulled almost completely out again, loosening his grip as a sort of apology for almost choking Oikawa on the very first thrust. His expression remained anything but apologetic because he absolutely was not sorry. He wanted _more_.

 

***

Temporarily immobilized by an urgent rush of arousal, Oikawa's spent form drooped over Tobio's; his rhythm sloppily faltered as the older boy allowed himself a moment to hold back his orgasm. It was too much. Too much too fast, and Oikawa nearly howled in appreciation for Tobio's final admittance. His free hand palmed the crumpled fabric of Tobio's jacket and shirt up to his shoulder blades to display the taught skin that it concealed. Oikawa gazed upon Tobio's writhing body in carnal adoration, a warm quake stirring from the tip of his forehead to the pit of his groin as he watched the bundle of tight muscles dance by his doing. Trimmed nails dug possessively into the younger's boy's tanned skin, leaving hot, white, lines in their assault. Oikawa would carve his name into this poor boy before the afternoon was over-- proudly claiming that Tobio was _his_ , daring anyone to take that sinful right from him.

_I will never let you go, Tobio._

Oikawa obliged to the younger's desperate babbling, jerking his hips forward with an echo of a _smack_ into the hilt. "Mm, I know what you need, Tobio. I know where you want it-- how you like it, _oh god_..." Oikawa stuttered again, having to grit his teeth to maintain composure, "You want me to fuck you hard, Tobio? I'll fuck you so hard your captain will have to bench you until nationals. Beg me to fuck you, Tobio, tell me what you need-- don't stop, let me hear it."

Suddenly there were fingers upon Oikawa's scalp; curious, strong fingers combing through his sweat-dampened curls. And then they tugged. The motion was so intimately dominating that it broke Oikawa's concentration and brought his glassy gaze upwards to the owner of those fingers. Before he could interject with some sort of catty remark, brow quirked offensively, Oikawa felt the head of that behemoth cock (still slick with his own, eager saliva) push into the hollow of his cheek. He made a soft noise of surprise, hissing the ace's name under his breath. Before he was allowed more, his gasping lips were stuffed with the overwhelming girth. Oikawa hummed a more urgent sound of surprise as Ushijima rut his hips forward to pummel his cock into Oikawa's tonsils. The setter shuddered lightly, gagging uncharacteristically against the assault-- he glared a warning upwards at Ushijima through his dark lashes, brown eyes stinging with tears in the corners. Oikawa anxiously tried to control a rhythm for both his own hips and Ushijima's feeling himself fighting a losing battle as the taller boy relentlessly fucked his pretty little mouth.

And for once in his life, Oikawa Tooru shut up-- nose pressed into a tuft of course, brown hairs. One hand still clawed patterns into Tobio's back as an anchor, the other hand gripping for dear life at Ushijima's hip to help lead him into a more sensible pace that didn't leave Oikawa starry-eyed from oxygen deprivation. Once the taller boy finally allowed Oikawa to slip from his length, he swallowed a giant breath of fresh air. A hand went protectively to his sore jaw, a bit shocked (but not disgusted) by the raw carelessness Ushijima had bestowed upon him and his perfect mouth.

"Ushiwaka, _fuck_ , that thing is a weapon... What is wrong with you, you son of a bitch? You've successfully almost managed to choke-out two out of three people in this room!" Though Oikawa's gruff, throaty tone spewed poisonous insults, there was a flush of bliss across his cheeks. And his lips remained parted in breathy pants as if awaiting his next offering.

 

***

Tobio, blissed out and panting, did exactly as Oikawa asked. “Harder, _harder_ , more please oh god please, Oikawa, please, it’s so fucking good, more more more…”

Words fell from his lips,  pleading,  filthy moans and whimpers and groans all marks of his debasing humiliation, marks of how much he loved it.  He lay there, taking it like a good boy, and he’d felt himself quickly nearing the edge of orgasm. He’d learned from the beginning that he had to come just from Oikawa’s cock in him or else be left unsatisfied, and it seemed that his body remembered the lessons all too well. It was more satisfying than his hand ever was, the way Oikawa pounded into him, dug nails into his skin. It was hard and sharp and painful and delicious enough to make his toes curl, and then the movement faltered.

Tobio snarled, shuddering, as he was torn from the edge, left in a tormented, too aroused state from the denied orgasm. He bucked his hips back, demanding more, but Oikawa barely moved in response, his fingers scratching into Tobio’s back. Tobio cracked his eyes open, and the mirror reflected the image of Ushijima’s cock stuffed down Oikawa’s throat. Oikawa seemed to be trying to control Ushijima’s movements to prevent himself from choking. Ushijima’s dick was big, sure, but clearly Oikawa had little experience with cocks down his throat. Tobio felt a little stirring of sick pride. He could do ten times better than that. He’d been able to repress his gag reflex and his choking after the first few times Oikawa had forced him to deep-throat his cock. Still, seeing Oikawa choke and hearing his wrecked voice made Tobio’s own mouth water. He wanted a cock in his mouth too, wanted to test himself and see if he could let Ushijima fuck his throat as easily as he let Oikawa do it to him. And he wanted attention, and he wanted to come, and wanted to forget his shame in the intensity of sensation. He’d been so close, and he didn’t care if Oikawa had a cock in his mouth. He bucked back again, arching his back and glaring over his shoulder at Oikawa.

“You’ve never been able to fuck me hard enough to stop me from playing, Oikawa-senpai,” he said, his voice deep again in challenge. “I doubt you’ll be able to this time, especially if you can’t even take a cock down your throat properly.”

 

***

Oikawa’s sharp-tongued insults rolled right over Ushijima, having little to no effect. The only indication that he even acknowledged them was a slight twitch of one of his brows. Choking either of them out wasn’t his intention, but letting them think it was what he wanted was fine. Ushijima heard Kageyama start speaking somewhat coherently again – beckoning Oikawa’s attention right back with his usual defiance. If Ushijima were more like Oikawa he would have rolled his eyes. How predictable of Karasuno’s setter. But as it was, a soft sound merely rumbled from the back of his throat as he slipped his hand back into his jacket pocket so he could surreptitiously coat his fingers with greasy slick once more.

“You never answered me, Oikawa,” Ushijima stated. “So I’m inclined to find out for myself without your permission…”

A quick kneel had Ushijima’s massive body crowding Oikawa’s back, cock bumping insistently against his butt, though he somehow resisted rutting. Ushijima felt calmer, now that the initial shock of sexual arousal was beginning to wear off. His hand still shook a little as he lifted Okawa's shirt, trailed slippery sensation down the base of Oikawa's spine and into the cleft of his ass. He wasn’t nervous, not much, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins was most definitely more than he normally felt during a match. It was intoxicating. Ushijima’s fingers caressed Oikawa’s skin, his tight ring of muscle – warm, puckered, soft – and the sensation filled Ushijima with a hedonistic need to _fuck him._

“Has anyone ever done this to _you_ before? Have you had someone inside you, like what you’re doing to Kageyama?” Ushijima was genuinely curious behind his monotone, but his wording made it sound more like he was poorly attempting dirty talk. He didn't mind. His deep bass of a voice fell lower still as he leaned even closer to Oikawa’s ear, “Or would you rather I try something else?”

Ushijima’s hand disappeared from its place at Oikawa’s backside, but the elder setter wouldn’t have to miss it long. Ushijima only took a couple seconds to feel around in front of him before locating the spot where Oikawa’s body connected with Kageyama’s. He had no idea what he was doing really, but he knew that stimulation was important. Touching, stretching. Ushijima did both by pressuring two fingers against the sensitive underside of Oikwa’s dick, starting from the base, and sliding them down until they met the resistance of Kageayama’s stretched opening. Not even the jumpstart of his heart pounding viciously back into his throat could stop the need spurring Ushijima’s fingers to push harder, farther, to fight against the current until he was two knuckles deep, holding his hand stationary, fingers straight against the slide of Oikawa’s dick and Kageayama’s straining entrance.

 

***

Ragged insults echoed off of the bathroom tiles from the young setter, tearing Oikawa's wounded look from Ushijima. He bore down at Tobio with a raw, unabashed look of pure disgust. Oikawa was only slightly aware of, and concerned of, the thin trail of mixed fluids that smeared his cheek-- it somewhat marred his intimidation factor, but all three boys were in such a state of sexual debilitation that shame was an afterthought. The older setter pounced upon Tobio then, grinding his blackened cheek into the cold hardness of the bathroom floor so that his smart remarks were hissed into pain.

"You fucking brat," Oikawa growled through grit teeth as he laid himself flat upon Tobio's back, resuming his relentless thrusts into the younger boy, "You selfish fucking brat." The strength in which Oikawa bucked his hips then left a lingering throb in his own pelvis, colliding so hard that their bones clacked. The shoddy lube was wearing dangerously thin, but in his rage, Oikawa relished in the biting burn of their raw skin. "You're so hungry for a dick up your ass that you forget your place," Oikawa hissed hotly into the younger's ear, lips pressed against the shell of it, "All the begging in the world isn't going to make it ok to talk to me like that-- I taught you everything that you know. You're cute, but you're not _that_ cute, Tobio." Oikawa cuffed a handful of dark fringe and angled Tobio's face so that he was forced to meet Oikawa's disgusted gaze over his shoulder; thrusting his used tongue into Tobio's mouth in a sloppy, heartless kiss so that Tobio could taste the bitter taste of the ace in their conjoined mouths.

"You're so sure I can't break you? What about Hinata? You think I can't break him? That tiny little thing? As soon as I'm done with you, he's _mine_ , Tobio... I'm going to bend that little ass over and fuck him until he bleeds. You won't even want the scraps when I'm done with him, so help me _god_ I will take him from you if you open that mouth of yours again--"

Oikawa stiffened against Tobio's back as he felt another presence against his own; hulking and intimidatingly arousing as hot breaths and urgent fingers were suddenly upon him. Ushijima's words were near lost at the pleasant haze that settled over Oikawa, soothing his vicious outburst against Tobio. There were eager fingers all over him in all the right places, rough and clumsy but to the point and eager to learn. The older setter stumbled a moan past his swollen, wet lips as oiled fingers found the nerves of his entrance and then delved lower, lower, sinfully lower until they reached Oikawa's balls that were tight and ready to cum. His throbbing, blissfully raw shaft was next in Ushijima's search; masculine fingers massaging their way along the smooth skin until they reached the hilt of Tobio's ass where Oikawa had been deeply buried. In his closeness, Oikawa rolled his eyes back, and his head, upon Ushijima's shoulder. That mess of damp, brown curls nestled against Ushijima's neck as Oikawa hummed a noise of surprised approval. Sometimes Oikawa forgot that Ushijima was a virgin. He was so steadfast and daunting to overcome-- Oikawa had never been so willing to be conquered by a novice. And yet here he was, melted backwards against Ushijima's chest, huffing short cries of need as fingers made their way past his own length and into the tight ring of Tobio's muscles where Oikawa had laid buried.

 

***

Oikawa’s words shut Tobio up, all right. He got what he wanted, Oikawa pounding into him hard and fast again, tugging on his hair and dominating his mouth, just the way he liked, and his mind had started to wander back into bliss and he crept back towards orgasm again. But then he heard Hinata’s name hissed into his ear and stiffened, panic setting in once he processed what Oikawa was saying. It was vile, the idea of Oikawa ripping Hinata’s innocence away, of hurting him, of touching him when he didn’t want to be touched, and Tobio’s hands clenched into fists as he seethed in impotent rage. The spark of pleasure when Oikawa pounded against his prostate all but faded, and the pain suddenly seemed much more intense. He grunted, his back shifting in a vain attempt to get away, but Oikawa held him fast, not relenting as the soap started to vanish and all he felt was uncomfortable friction.

Oikawa wouldn’t break his body, not even if he fucked him dry. He’d still be up and able to play volleyball, even if he was limping. He’d get through it. Oikawa could break him, though, surely enough. If Oikawa made good on his threat, Kageyama would break. His own weakness, his own twisted desire would ruin Hinata, and would ruin him. He hissed in annoyance, fingers scrabbling over the floor as he tried to escape Oikawa’s oppressive nearness, and then Oikawa’s chest was off his back and he could breathe a little better.

“If you touch him, I’ll kill you, Oikawa,” he promised in a low voice, punctuated by the breath forced from him with every one of Oikawa’s thrusts. “I hate you.”

And he did, more intensely than he thought possible. He hated Oikawa, and he hated himself for being weak to him. He hated himself for not kicking Oikawa in the face, and for groaning when two big blunt fingers stretched him impossibly wide. His back rippled with tension until he forced himself to relax, allowing the intrusion of what could only be Ushijima’s fingers. It was too much, and he shuddered, nails digging into his palms and breath becoming reedy with pain. At least Ushijima had used lube, or he was certain he’d rip in half. “I fucking _hate_ you.” He felt every millimeter of Ushijima’s fingers as they pressed into him alongside Oikawa’s dick, their movements unpracticed and clumsy and _too fucking much._

 

***

Working with Oikawa felt just as good as Ushijima always knew it would. Better, even. Because this wasn't volleyball, no - he had to keep reminding himself of that - this was something far more intimate, something that went above and beyond everything Ushijima had originally thought he wanted. His blood ran hot in his veins, pumping towards his groin. Oikawa’s warmth against his chest and the head leaned back on his shoulder felt somehow more _connected_ than anything else they'd done so far, and it made Ushijima nuzzle slightly closer, just enough to inhale a breath of Oikawa’s scent, sweat and shampoo and aftershave mingling into a heady aroma. He hardly cared that such a close connection was likely only possible due to Kageyama’s involvement as well. That mattered little.

He wanted to say things to Oikawa - wanted to tell him how nice his weight felt, how badly Ushijima wanted to hold him up, to take him to greater heights the setter had never been able to reach on his own, to whisper sweet promises of power and lust and domination that only they could share together - but he couldn't. The words got stuck in his throat, quelled by the quiet fear of being rejected, like he always had been. Ushijima was unwilling to take such a risk when he was so open and vulnerable, not with Kageyama there, biting and clawing and vehement. Instead, he would include that nuisance even _more_.

He started to move his fingers roughly - in when Oikawa pulled out, out when Oikawa pushed back in - so that Kageyama was constantly being filled, with movement still creating perpetual friction. It did little for Ushijima in terms of arousal, but he tilted his head to carefully watch Oikawa’s expressions changing in the mirror. This had to feel good for him, too. Seeing any amount of pleasure that he had a hand in causing for Oikawa always made Ushijima feel flushed all over. He pumped his hand relentlessly in opposing time with every hard thrust of Oikawa’s hips, hoping to see more and more of thirsty need twisting on his favorite setter’s face. It wasn't enough; it was never enough to keep his hands off Oikawa for long, so he quickly lubed up his free hand and replaced it where the other had left off - down Oikawa’s shorts where a single, massive digit could circle Oikawa’s entrance over and over, asking silent permission to proceed, being tantalizingly docile and tentative. It was the opposite of how Ushijima felt; greed spurred the hand inside Kageyama to pump slightly out of time. It wasn't _enough_ , though…

 

***

Oikawa felt his entire body tense into an approving arc as both hands of Ushijima sought to claim him and whatever was left of his coherent sanity. A guttural whimper spewed from his throat as he lolled his head back upon Ushijima's shoulder, hips rolling back desperately against his finger that tested his own, ignored entrance. Silently begging, pleading, hoping, needing Ushijima to comply with his suggestion. _Yes yes yes yes_ Oikawa's mind helplessly roared, _Ushiwaka, don't make me beg, not like this._

After all the effort he'd put into Tobio, Oikawa's body was almost embarrassing sensitive and needy for attention of his own. "Ushiwaka," the name finally tumbled from his lips, broken and high-pitched, "Touch me more-- _ohhh god yes_ , I'm so close, I'm gonna come inside him. Finish me off."

Oikawa keened low in the back of his throat, toes curling in his shoes on opposite sides of Tobio's waist, and back arching off of the ace's chest as a whirlwind of heat crashed through his body at a rate that left him near breathless. Once he'd emptied himself inside of Tobio, Oikawa winced, pulling himself free to rest his used cock upon Tobio's cheeks. The urgent pangs of painful pleasure made stars dance in the setter's eyes as he stared down at the abused boy beneath him.

"Tobio," Oikawa called out to him, near useless against Ushijima as he rode out his orgasm. "Will you play nice with us now if I let you up?" Though his tone was exhausted, there was an underlying certainly of threat. "You do this to yourself, you know... You used to be such a good boy." Oikawa licked his lips, feeling his body restore some of its balance once the vertigo of arousal settled into a dull haze, "I hope you realize this isn't really a choice. If you decide to be naughty again, I'll just have Ushiwaka pin you back down with that monster-cock. Which will just make me angrier."

There was a tinge of jealousy at the end that was unspoken, but not suppressed. It was Oikawa's turn. Despite Tobio's repeated attempts to escape, he'd had his turn, and Oikawa promised brooding consequences if Tobio cost him this moment with Ushijima-- just the single, massive finger at this own hole slowly working him into a hotwired mess of want.

 

***

“Fuck you,” Kageyama spat, his voice laced with pain from the excessive pressure of Oikawa’s cock and Ushijima’s fingers. It hurt, and he was pissed off. Regardless of how much his body enjoyed being filled up with dick, he was too angry to get any pleasure from Oikawa’s ministrations. He just felt disgusting, abused and ragged and worthless as he felt Oikawa’s slick cum drip down his thighs. It was vile, and he felt tears of impotent rage pricking at his eyes again. He hated Oikawa and Ushijima both.

He didn’t understand why Oikawa was so changeable. He could reduce Kageyama to a willing, begging mess, and Kageyama wasn’t going to deny that he loved it when Oikawa controlled him like that. But Oikawa could also be cruel for no reason, sadistic and dominating in a way that twisted up Kageyama’s stomach into a knot of self-loathing. He wasn’t going to stay put, kneeling at Oikawa’s feet, and let the older boy do whatever he wanted. Kageyama knew better than that, even if it had taken him three long years to realize. Oikawa had gotten what he wanted. Oikawa had gotten Kageyama to beg, to plead, to stay willingly while he was tossed around and fucked like the sex toy Oikawa wanted him to be, and Kageyama was done. Oikawa’s desecration was leaking out of him, and he wasn’t going to be a willing participant any longer.

“Fuck you, Oikawa,” he said. “Let Ushijima-san fuck you until you’re helpless on the floor like the fucking whore that you are, but leave me out of it. You got what you wanted. You _broke me,_ isn’t that what you were after? I’m leaving.” His voice was choked with rage and the betrayal that had finally surfaced, and he was done. He struggled under Oikawa’s hold, muscles cramped and numb from the horribly uncomfortable position. It was an effort, especially when he moved enough that Ushijima’s fingers moved in him, but he was determined. He quickly managed to pull himself forward and get himself free of the unwanted contact and get unsteadily to his feet while Oikawa was distracted. He stumbled, looking around wildly for his phone, and found it discarded next to Ushijima’s hulking figure.

 

***

Ushijima honed in on Oikawa - on his heat and his voice and his scent and his arching weight writhing against him, helpless to his own pleasure. It sent sparks of adrenaline through Ushijima’s body, watching the tension pool within Oikawa, in the way his shoulders shook and his jaw was set sternly in place, wound tight like a coil ready to spring at any moment. Ushijima wanted to be the one to set that spring free - _he_ wanted to get Oikawa off, not Kageyama. He silently acquiesced to Oikawa’s wishes, pushing a single finger inside just as Oikawa crested his orgasm and filled Kageyama. The touch of Oikawa’s cock pressed against the fingers on one hand, pulsing powerful spurts of fluid inside Kageyama, was exquisitely filthy. The touch of Oikawa's insides clenching down on his other finger was even better. Ushijima couldn't repress a shudder as he tilted his face just enough to press his lips onto the salty, sweat soaked skin of Oikawa’s neck, licking a stripe of saliva all the way up one protruding tendon. Movement out of the corner of his eye broke Ushijima’s concentration though. Kageyama was fixing to leave now. _Good_. Ushijima didn't want him here in the first place; winning Oikawa over was always his one and only goal.

“You should let him leave,” Ushijima murmured against Oikawa’s skin, mouthing it gently with his teeth in between pauses of breath, between the gentle glide of his occupied finger in and out up to the first knuckle. “You don't need him anymore. He's already broken, pathetically so, and he's only going to hold you back at this point. Just let him crawl back to his team. You won…” Saying those last two words felt strange on Ushijima’s tongue, but he didn't regret them. The way he said it almost held an unspoken _We won_ to the tone.

He boldly lifted his cum covered fingers and shoved them between Oikawa’s lips, halfway down his throat while he continued preparing him. He wasn't sure if Oikawa would enjoy his own taste or not at the moment, but he certainly didn't think Oikawa would be opposed to Kageyama’s lingering in the mix as well. Ushijima himself thought the wild mix of smells permeating the bathroom was quite a turn on. His cock jumped in agreement as Ushijima pushed it up against Oikawa's backside, large and looming and leaking with need.

 

***

Little twitches of electricity still caught at Oikawa's body as his orgasm settled, though he was spared little time in between crests as Ushijima assaulted him almost immediately after. Brown eyes rolled back in their sockets as a hot mouth enclosed upon his neck and soaked a line of skin with a trail of an eager tongue. Oikawa was so accustomed to control that he had almost forgotten how intoxicating it was to surrender it. Every bone, every muscle, every inch of his being had utterly relinquished ownership to Ushijma-- who appeared to have learned quite a bit already just by watching Oikawa and his ministrations with Tobio. This was a whole new brand of pleasure that Oikawa rarely allowed himself, but _god_ was it good. He hardly even noticed as Tobio pried himself free from underneath Oikawa's dead weight. All he wanted in that moment was to rut against Ushijima and his muscular fingers until he forgot where he was, or who he was; he was close to that already, watching Tobio pull himself to his feet and right himself without uttering a complaint. But then it registered, as Ushijima uttered reassuring words to him against Oikawa's ear.

"No," Oikawa whimpered quietly under his breath, "Tobio." The older setter interjected, though his sense and conscience were drunk on lust. Ushijima continued to reassure him, for his own desires Oikawa was sure, and Oikawa had never felt so exposed and so simple. Ushijima was playing him right into his hands, and he knew, and Oikawa knew, and Tobio probably knew-- but Oikawa was past caring. He was spent and he was needy. But he had _won_ , Ushijima said. Finally. After three years, Oikawa had finally beaten that genius brat and broken him into the nothingness that Oikawa treated him as. As Tobio at last made his awaited escape, Oikawa snatched forward at the boy's ankle and squeezed until his trimmed nails dug white crescents into his flesh. Oikawa rolled his head further back onto Ushijima's shoulder so that he could glower up at Tobio, still finding strong, coherent speech to be a feat as Ushijima and that mouth of his were relentless at his neck.

"Fuck you, too, Tobio," Oikawa spat, his voice broken and hoarse, but he managed a nasty smirk at his own warped revel of victory. Dried blood from his assaulted nose cracked as the muscles in his lips strained, "I fucking hate you too. But I will never be done with you." And Oikawa finally let him go. Physically, if nothing else, as promised by his parting threat.

 

***

Kageyama stumbled back, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like he’d been in a fight, and that was fine. Let them think he’d resorted to using his fists, as long as they didn’t see the rest, the lines of Oikawa’s fingers down his back that were burning, the pain on his hips where he knew he’d have bruises. The black eye and the split lip and the lump on his head and the fingermarks on his throat, those he could all explain away. The sight of them made him ache, though. They were physical evidence of what he’d known. Oikawa hated him.

It hurt to hear him say it out loud, more than Kageyama ever imagined it would. A part of him had known that all along, since he was twelve, since Oikawa had first tried to punch him. He’d ignored it, though, desperate to believe Oikawa’s honeyed words and to believe that someone cared about him. That Oikawa wasn’t just using him. He knew he’d been deluding himself, though. He knew what it felt like to have people care about him, now. Hinata and the rest, they actually cared. They didn’t pretend only to later see him broken. He wouldn’t let Oikawa break him any more. The cracks and fissures in his spirit would heal, and he’d finally be able to forget how Oikawa made him feel. He wiped blood off his lip and straightened his uniform in the mirror, then turned and sneered down at the boy who had tormented him for way too long.

“You’re done with me,” he said, disgusted at the sight of Oikawa writhing all over Ushijima. He felt sick that he’d ever let Oikawa fuck him, that he’d _begged_ for it. Never again. “You’re fucking done. Stay the fuck away from me, and if you even look at Hinata, I swear I’ll kill you.” His tone had turned deadly, his face a mask of hate and warning, eyes glittering coldly.

He spat onto the floor in front of Oikawa, then turned and walked to the door, unlocked it, and let it slam shut behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you enjoyed your frolic through the trash fields!


End file.
